Mr Gum and the Secret Hideout (7 page)

‘Come on!’ cried Polly as she and Friday raced into town. ‘There’s no time to lose! We gots to get THE DEPARTMENT OF CLOUDS AN’ YOGURTS rollin’ again. We gots to ’vestigate every last buildin’ and find them villainers!’

Overhead, the ugly clouds roiled and broiled and groiled. The rising waters snaked along after them and with every step, the air grew thicker and sludgier with the stench of rotten meat.

‘Oh, no!’ exclaimed Alan Taylor from Polly’s pocket. ‘I can’t breathe this, I’m a vegetarian!’

Soon they were on the high street – but Polly barely recognised it. There was hardly anyone around, just a few people sitting quietly in shop doorways or stretched out hopelessly on the cracked and dusty ground.

‘It’s – so hot,’ croaked the little girl called Peter. ‘We can’t – breathe!’

‘And there’s a – beached whale by the town hall!’ gasped Martin Launderette, who ran the launderette.

‘I’m not – a – beached whale!’ replied Jonathan Ripples, the fattest man in town.

‘Yes – you are,’ croaked Martin Launderette unkindly.

FLOOOOB!

BUFFFFFFFSSSH!

Clouds fell from the sky.

The sun beat down mercilessly.

Cactuses had started to grow through the pavements.

‘Terrible days!’ cawed flocks of brightly coloured parrots from the rooftops. ‘Terrible days! Terrible days! Awk!’

Old Granny sat out in the middle of the street, rocking back and forth in her chair. ‘Terrible days! Terrible days!’ she muttered, taking a suck on her six-mile long straw. ‘Temperatures rising! Rivers bursting their banks! A cactus growing under my feet! The world’s turned upside-down!’

But THE DEPARTMENT OF CLOUDS AN’ YOGURTS had no time to spend listening to Old Granny’s ramblings.

‘Billy said they was hidin’ out in a secret hideout,’ said Polly. ‘We gots to search everywhere we can think of an’ even some places we can’t!’

‘We must leave no stone unturned!’ said Friday, turning over a stone in case the secret hideout was underneath. ‘Let’s go!’

So Polly and Friday got the map from their office and all that morning they searched beneath the sweltering sun, colouring in bits of the map as they went.

And all that morning Old Granny rocked back and forth in her chair and shook her head. And all that morning the cactus grew higher and higher between her legs until she and her chair were ten feet off the ground. The heat was almost unbearable but Old Granny was a tough old macaroon and she would not be moved, not even when the first muddy waters from the river began flooding the high street.

‘Terrible days! Terrible days!’ she cried, taking a sip of sherry from her six-mile long straw. ‘Well, if this town’s going down, I’m going with it! Terrible days!’

‘Where ARE they?’ said Friday, running past Old Granny’s dangling feet. ‘Those villains must be hiding SOMEWHERE!’

‘Terrible days,’ nodded Old Granny. ‘Terrible days indeed.’

‘We must of missed a bit,’ said Polly, scanning the map from top to bottom. ‘We must of, Mr Friday, we must!’

‘No,’ said Friday sadly. ‘I told you – that map shows the entire town. Every house, every street, every hill, every –’

But just then they heard a horrible noise. ‘EEEEEUUUURRRRGGGH!’ cried Old Granny from above.

‘What is it, O.G.?’ cried Polly, whipping round so fast that Alan Taylor flew out of her pocket, did a spectacular triple somersault, and landed in a palm tree.

‘The – the sherry,’ gasped Old Granny, gobbing out massive bits of phlegm to rid herself of the taste. ‘I was just – I was just having a little sip, you know, to calm my nerves. Anyway, I was sucking on my straw and then – there was something stuck in there! So I sucked harder and – oh, it was shocking! A hoof! I swallowed a hoof!’

‘What’s a hoof doin’ in your sherry?’ said Polly. She picked up Old Granny’s straw and placed the end to her lips. ‘Mr Friday, is it OK if I try a little bit of sherry? I’m only nine.’

‘Yes, Mr Polly,’ said Friday. ‘You may. It could be an important clue.’ So Polly took a little sip and –

‘EEEURGGGH! It tastes all meaty!’ she exclaimed. ‘Old Granny, where does this straw lead?’

‘Why, to Finnegan’s Sherry Factory on the edge of town,’ said Old Granny.

‘Finnegan’s Sherry Factory?’ said Polly. ‘But that isn’t on Mr Friday’s map. Hang on a minute … O.G., do you knowed when they done opened that fact’ry?’

‘Yes,’ said Old Granny with a dreamy look upon her wrinkled old face. ‘They opened it on the fifteenth of November, back in 1973. I shall never forget it, because it was the happiest day of my life.’

‘JUMPIN’ RHINOCERERS! Mr Friday, that’s IT!’ said Polly. ‘You done drewed your map THE DAY BEFORE they opened up that fact’ry! That’s why it’s not on there! An’ I’ll bet you that’s where them villains is hidin’ out – an’ that’s why Old Granny’s sherry’s gone all meaty!’

‘THE HOOF IS A LEMON MERINGUE!’ shouted Friday. ‘You’re right, little miss! Let’s go!’

So Friday jumped on to his motorbike, which by a lucky coincidence just happened to be standing right next to him, and Polly jumped into the sidecar with Alan Taylor clinging to her hair. And they tied Old Granny’s cactus-and-rocking-chair tower to the back with a rope because as she said, ‘If there’s sherry in trouble, I’d better come along!’

And then –
WAAAAAAOOOO!
– Friday squealed up the engine, the enormous cactus flew out of the ground with Old Granny hanging off the end, and with a cry of ‘I’VE SAID NOTHING FOR ABSOLUTELY AGES!’ from Alan Taylor, they flamed it up the high street like a monstra, the rising waters lapping at their heels.

‘I
t’s the Ten Rules of Evil, them amazin’ Rules of Evil!’ sang Mr Gum and Billy as they unloaded another barrel of meat on to the furnace. ‘An’ you jus’ will not believe all of them tricks we like to plaaaaaaaaay!’

‘What a laugh it all is, Billy me old air-polluter!’ grinned Mr Gum. He was covered in grease and bits of bones, and his beard was singed and blackened but none of that mattered to him now. All his thoughts were on the destruction of Lamonic Bibber, and he had never wanted anything so badly in his bad life.

‘I never wanted anythin’ so badly in me bad life,’ roared Mr Gum as he sloshed a heap of tripe on to the flames. ‘I can hardly even breathe but who even cares?’

‘An’ who’d’ve thought we was hidin’ out in Finnegan’s Sherry Factory what’s on the edge of town miles away from anyone?’ laughed Billy William the Third through a mouthful of entrails. ‘No one’ll ever find us here!’

‘Well, that’s jus’ where you’re wrong again!’ said a voice behind them. And wheeling around, Mr Gum and Billy were confronted with the sight they hated most of all – heroes coming to save the day. Because perched on the rim of a massive vat of bubbling hot sherry were Polly, Friday, Alan Taylor, Old Granny AND a special bonus of Jake the dog, who they’d picked up along the way

‘DEPARTMENT OF CLOUDS AND YOGURTS!’ chorused the heroes.

‘WOOF!’ chorused Jake, even though you can’t really chorus on your own.

And then they did this really cool thing of standing on each other’s shoulders in an amazing human-and-dog pyramid, which was an idea Friday had come up with on the ride over.

‘You’re under arrests!’ cried Polly from the top. ‘This time you gone too far, Mr Gum, you unpleasant vine! An’ I’m not very impressed with you neither, Billy William the Thirds.’

‘MEDDLERS!’ screamed Mr Gum. ‘How the blibbin’ blib did you find us, you blibbin’ blibberers?’

‘Cos you done carelessnesses, that’s what,’ said Polly, pointing to where a few hooves and entrails floated in the vat of hot, bubbling sherry.

‘You MUNCHER!’ roared Mr Gum, turning towards Billy. ‘You been droppin’ meat in the sherry an’ now you’ve ruined everything!’

‘I never,’ protested Billy as he dodged a kick from Mr Gum’s hobnail boot. ‘I never!’

‘Shabba me whiskers!’ scowled Mr Gum, turning away in disgust. ‘Well, come on then!’ he shouted to Polly and her friends. ‘Come down here, I dares ya!’

Well, true heroes like the brave men, women, dogs and biscuits of THE DEPARTMENT OF CLOUDS AND YOGURTS do not hesitate in the face of fear. For as their motto goes:

Doo-doo-doo! Doo-doo-doo!
Doo-doo-doo!
Yeah!

And now Polly jumped down off the vat and her brave colleagues jumped down behind her, and soon the air was full of punches and smoke and heat and bacon as the final battle began.

‘SNARP!’ yelled Mr Gum, getting Friday in the ribs with some spare ribs.