The Wombles Go round the World (7 page)

‘What's the biggest thing you've ever tidied up?' asked Bungo.

‘Well,' said Idaho, leaning back and hooking his front paws into his belt. ‘I guess you could say it was a boat. Some Human Beings stopped their trailer up there by a motel and they had this boat joined on behind. They uncoupled it and just left it there among all the garbage. It wasn't that old either.'

Idaho's voice died away into silence, for at that very moment a larger car drew up over to their right, where there was a huddle of buildings. Joined to the back of the car was a trailer bearing a motorhome; to Bungo it looked like an entire house. Three Human Beings got out of the car, argued between themselves and then undid something between the car and the house and vanished on the far side of the house. The house began to rock backwards and forwards in a most alarming manner while Bungo and Idaho, who had drawn up in the shadows nearby, sat with their fur bristling.

Woomp, woomp, woomp.

‘It's – it's going to come down on top of us!' whispered Idaho.

‘Then let's get out of the way,' said Bungo.

But Idaho, like a Womble in a trance, could only stare up at the enormous shape which was teetering above them. His paws seemed to be frozen to the steering wheel.

‘Oh dear, oh lor, oh me,' said Bungo and he pushed Idaho to one side and made a dive for the controls of the clockwork truck. Never having driven one before, he hadn't the slightest idea what did what as he pulled and pushed with all his might, with the result that there was the most awful grinding, scratching noise. Then the truck, instead of going forwards, jumped backwards and then backwards again, rather like a reversing kangaroo. And not a moment too soon for, as the last jump took place, the house went
woooomp
and fell over on its side in a great shower of earth and dust.

Idaho and Bungo shook themselves violently, sneezed, had a good scratch and looked at each other.

‘I'll tell you what,' said Bungo, ‘we'd better join that house-thing up to this truck and take it back to the burrow. Funny things, Human Beings, throwing away a perfectly good house. I suppose they've got so many houses they don't know what to do with them. Come on.'

They spent a busy half-hour getting the house back on its wheels with the aid of the pickup crane. Then they coupled it on behind and set off very slowly back to the burrow. Idaho was rather silent, while Bungo whistled softly under his breath. He was feeling quite pleased with himself for the first time in several days, because, apart from anything else, he was busy working out the Womblex message which he hoped Cousin Yellowstone would send to Wimbledon. When it was finally sent it read:

.

A
LL
A-OK USA. Y
ELLOW
A
LERT
OVER
. O
RINOCO
REORGANISING
W
OMBLETARIA
. B
UNGO
HAS
TIDIED-UP
HOUSE
. F
ONDEST
PAW
GREETINGS
TO
ALL
. Y
ELLOWSTONE
!

.

* ‘No Wombles' delight' – American Womble saying.

.

Chapter Six-and-a-half

Something Awful, Dreadful and Horrible

‘Tidied up a
what
?' said Great Uncle Bulgaria.

‘The message reads “house”,' said Tobermory doubtfully.

‘Must have got it wrong. Not even Human Beings throw away
houses
. Still, the main thing is that they're safe and sound with Yellowstone. I don't mind telling you, Tobermory, I was a shade anxious about them.'

‘Understandable,' said Tobermory, whose sharp eyes had seen the six empty mugs, which had once held hot acorn juice, ranged in a neat line near the Womblex machine. As Shansi had rather a sweet tooth and preferred drinking daisy mix through a straw, it hadn't been difficult to work out that Great Uncle Bulgaria had sat up all night, waiting for news. Added to which, the old Womble had deep shadows under his eyes, and his white fur had lost its usual sheen.

‘Well, now we know they're all safe and sound, we can take it easy for a bit,' said Tobermory. ‘There's Wellington and Tomsk all nice and snug with Onkel Bonn – funny way to spell “Uncle” I must say – and with some mysterious news up their sleeves . . .'

‘Yes, I can't help wondering what
THAT
is?'

‘You'll just have to go on wondering until they get back and . . . oh hallo, Madame Cholet.'

‘
Bonjour
,' said Madame Cholet, coming into the Workshop with a tray. She put the empty mugs on it and said quite severely for her, ‘Now, Monsieur Bulgaria. I trust you will not let your clover juice get cold when I have made it with so much trouble. I've put it by your bed.'

‘Clover juice! Bed! I'm not tired, Madame Cholet. And I have all my notes on our Wimbledon adventures to write out and . . .'

‘Yes, indeed. However,' said Madame Cholet, opening the door with a deft kick, ‘Alderney is practising her typewriting by doing the notes for you.'

‘And then there is the list of working Wombles for tidying-up duty to make out,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, trying to hide a gigantic yawn behind one white paw.

‘Miss Adelaide's already done it. Indeed, I understand that even now she has the Womblegarten out on the Common. However, Monsieur Bulgaria, if you are only looking for excuses why you should not drink the clover juice which I have prepared for you so carefully, please say so.'

‘Oh no, no, no,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria hastily, ‘quite the contrary. You make the most delicious clover juice in the whole world, Madame Cholet. In fact, I shall go and sample it at once.'

Great Uncle Bulgaria, who was practically asleep on his back paws, shuffled towards the door and then hesitated.

‘You will call – er – come and tell me if there is any more news, won't you, Tobermory?'

‘'Course, Bulgaria.'

‘Ah well, in that case. Goodni— I mean goodbye for the present,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria and off he went. The two Wombles who were left behind in the Workshop listened until they could no longer hear his shuffling footsteps and then Tobermory went, ‘
Tsk, tsk, tsk
. Tidied up a house indeed. “Mysterious news”, I ask you!'

‘
Tiens
,' agreed Madame Cholet, and returned to her kitchen.

At the same moment Alderney, who was feeling very important indeed, was sitting at Great Uncle Bulgaria's desk with a very large typewriter in front of her. She put a beautifully ironed piece of paper into it and looked carefully at Great Uncle Bulgaria's notes, which were propped up on the side of the desk. They were headed:
The Snow Womble
.

‘Busy, yes?' asked Shansi quietly from the doorway.

‘
Very
busy,' said Alderney. ‘Got a lot of typewriting to do,' and down came her paws on the keys as she rattled out,
TeH sNow wOOmble
.

‘Bother,' said Alderney and started again.

Up on the Common Miss Adelaide would very much have liked to say the same thing. But, as she did not approve of showing her displeasure, she only remarked, ‘Now then, Womblegarten, please be quiet and pay attention. At
ONCE
.'

The small Wombles, who had been playing leap-frog, catch-me-if-you-can, tag and hide-and-find, did as they were told. They lined up in front of Miss Adelaide with their little eyes shining and their soft fur covered with leaves and bits of bracken and pieces of grass.

‘Stop shuffling and whispering,' said Miss Adelaide. ‘Now, as it has been a nice day, a great many Human Beings will have been out walking and picnicking on the Common. Now, what does that mean?'

A very tubby little Womble put up his paw and said in a squeaky voice, ‘Lots of rubbish, please, Miss Adelaide.'

‘Correct. Only we say “a great deal of rubbish”, not “lots of” which is bad grammar. So now we are going to tidy up that rubbish. Has everybody got their tidy-bag?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good. Now what do we do if we see a Human Being coming towards us?'

‘Lie down flat and still and wait till they have gone away,' replied the Womblegarten in chorus.

‘Correct. Follow me.'

It was a very pleasant evening as far as the Wombles were concerned, which meant that there was now a chilly nip in the air and a slight mist, so that not many Human Beings would be out on a night like this. As always, Miss Adelaide was quite right, for there was a great deal to be tidied up. Bus tickets, milk cartons, old newspapers, paper bags, any number of gloves, books, two cameras, one handbag, an umbrella, a great many tin cans, seven plastic bags, a pair of gumboots, two watches, nine golf balls, three kites, a supermarket trolley, one pram with pram rug, eleven ballpoint pens and a bowler hat.

‘Dear, dear me,' said Miss Adelaide as the Womblegarten moved down the long slope from the Windmill towards the trees. ‘I do believe that, as from tomorrow, I shall have to provide larger tidy-bags.'

She clapped her front paws together and was about to recall the Womblegarten, as it was nearly their suppertime, when the tubby little Womble came running up to her and said breathlessly, ‘Miss Adelaide, something awful, dreadful and horrible has happened!'

Miss Adelaide felt her grey fur go spiky with worry, but she only said calmly, ‘Please show me to what you are referring. Everybody come here.'

A thin moon was rising through the mist as they made their way down the slope and into the bushes.

‘There,' said the tubby little Womble in a whisper. ‘Something awful, dreadful . . .'

‘That's enough of that. All of you wait here,' said Miss Adelaide and, using the umbrella which she had tidied up, she parted the bushes and moved forward into the darkness. For a moment she couldn't hear or see anything and then she became aware of a heavy, distressed, panting sound and her sharp eyes picked out a flash of white and black.

‘Dear, dear me,' said Miss Adelaide calmly, ‘are you in trouble?'

There was a deep grunt which sounded rather like
Gmmmmmmmm
.

‘Will you allow me to look?'

Gmmmmmmmm.

‘Quite so.'

The Womblegarten, who were now all clinging together, swallowed and whimpered softly as Miss Adelaide appeared to vanish into the darkness of the bushes. However, their fur began to lie down a little as they heard Miss Adelaide's voice talking gently but firmly, interspersed with a
gmmmmmmmm
. Then, quite suddenly, there was a distinct ‘
Yooooow!
', at which everybody's fur turned into prickles again.

‘Most unfortunate,' said Miss Adelaide, re-appearing in the moonlight. ‘Please bring me that pram. Furthermore, I need two helpers. You and you, forward please.'

The tubby little Womble and his best friend gulped and then did as they were told. After all, with Miss Adelaide there, nothing too awful, dreadful and horrible could happen.

‘Poor creature,' said Miss Adelaide from the black shadows of the bushes. ‘Do you see how he had been putting out all his bedding for a nice spring-cleaning, and then he got his paw caught in this very nasty can. Now when I say “one, two, three, lift”, you will both do exactly that. Are you ready? One, two, three . . .
LIFT
.'

There was a lot of heavy breathing, a frantic howl and then out of the darkness appeared Miss Adelaide, her two helpers and the pram. Lying in the pram was something large and furry and black and white with two gleaming, rather cross eyes.

‘Womblegarten,' said Miss Adelaide, ‘pay your respects to poor Mr Badger.'

The Womblegarten, letting out an enormous sigh of relief, did exactly as they were told.

‘We will now take Mr Badger to the Chief Ranger's house,' said Miss Adelaide. ‘The Chief Ranger, even if he
is
a Human Being, will know how to get this nasty tin can off Mr Badger's paw. Right, one, two and quick sharp.'

Ten minutes later, the Chief Ranger heard a loud knock on his front door and went to open it. In the shaft of light from his office, he saw a very battered child's pram and tucked inside it, under a tattered blanket, a very angry badger with a large and jagged tin can trapped round its fore paw.

‘Well . . .' said the Chief Ranger. ‘Well, that is, how did you, dear me, I'll have that can off you in a jiffy, but how did . . .'

‘
Grrrrrrrr
,' said the badger, blinking his little eyes and bristling, because he is a very, very, shy animal, and he strongly dislikes having to have any dealings with Human Beings. However, there are times when even badgers have to accept help and ten minutes later with a neat bandage round his paw, he was travelling heavily back towards his home.

The Chief Ranger watched him vanish into the darkness and then for the first time he looked more closely at the old pram. Attached to it was a small piece of paper. W
ITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE
W
OMBLEGARTEN
.

‘
Tsk, tsk, tsk
,' said the Chief Ranger and went back to his desk.

Once they were home and safe in the burrow, every member of the Womblegarten began whispering, pushing and shoving as they got into line and then trooped off to the Workshop with their tidy-bags.

‘My word,' said Tobermory, ‘you have done well. All those ballpoint pens, just when we needed them too,
and
a supermarket trolley, assorted gloves . . .'

Shansi, who was standing to one side of Tobermory, scribbled carefully in her notebook as Tobermory sorted everything out.

‘Newspapers, various – and yes a copy of today's
Times
, well done,' intoned Tobermory. ‘Fifteen milk cartons; put 'em to one side, Shansi, for Cousin Botany – bus tickets; they'd better go for pulping and – oh sorry, Miss Adelaide, I didn't see you for a moment. Well, your Womblegarten
has
done you proud.'

‘Yes, indeed,' agreed Miss Adelaide. ‘It's been a most instructive evening. I wonder if you would be good enough to let me have some nice clean ironed paper bags early tomorrow for classes one and two.'

‘'Course, Miss Adelaide. Might I – er – ask what for, exactly?'

Miss Adelaide removed her spectacles and polished them before looking proudly at her young Wombles.

‘We are going to write an essay,' she said, ‘on some aspects of the wildlife of Wimbledon Common. The essays will be entitled
The Rescuing of Mr Badger
. And the best of the essays will, I am certain, be reprinted as a small chapter in
Vol. Ten
of our History. Goodnight, Tobermory.'

‘'Night, Miss Adelaide.'

Tobermory scratched behind his ear with a screwdriver and glanced at Shansi.

‘Now what do you suppose Miss Adelaide meant by that?' he asked.

‘Cannot say,' replied Shansi, ‘but am sure that whatever Miss Adelaide says will happen, will happen. Miss Adelaide always right.'