‘We’ll soon show him exactly where he stands,’ said Jack. ‘But I really can’t think how Bill was soft enough to take him on. Where’s the crybaby now?’
‘I’ve popped him into bed with a book,’ said Mrs. Cunningham. ‘There’s such a lot of things to do this evening and I really felt I couldn’t cope with sobs and tears and bickerings the very first day you were home-so I thought everyone would be happier if he was in bed.’
‘How right you were!’ said Jack. ‘Well, now dear Gussy is safely out of the way, let’s get on with things. I suppose you don’t want any help with the supper, Aunt Allie?’
‘I imagine that’s a roundabout way of saying you are hungry again?’ said Aunt Allie. ‘All right-the girls can see to supper. You boys come and help me finish packing the greatest number of things into the smallest possible bags! I’m leaving behind practically everything belonging to Gustavus-he’s got the most ridiculous things-pyjamas made of real silk, for instance! And monograms on everything.’
‘He must have gone through an awful lot of ragging at school then,’ said Philip. ‘Pity they didn’t have his hair cut. He’d make a lovely girl with all that long curly black hair. Couldn’t we get his hair cut, Mother?’
‘Possibly,’ said his mother. ‘Let’s not talk about him any more. I’m tired of him already.’
The packing was finished by supper-time. Mrs. Cunningham was determined not to take more than a change of clothes for everyone: shirts, jerseys, blazers and macs. Once more she had to take Jack’s enormous book on birds from where he had hidden it yet again under some shirts in a suit-case. She looked at him in exasperation.
He grinned back amiably. ‘Oh, sorry, Aunt Allie! You don’t mean to say it’s got itself packed again!’
‘I’m locking the cases now,’ said Aunt Allie, with determination. ‘Really, Jack, I sometimes feel you want a good spanking!’
Supper was a hilarious meal. Gustavus, having a tray of food in bed, listened rather enviously. He was tired, and glad to be in bed-but it did sound very jolly downstairs. He didn’t somehow feel that he had made a very good impression, though. That bird-it was that ‘wicket’ bird who had made things go wrong. When he got Kiki alone he would slap her hard-biff!
Gustavus brought his hand down smartly as he pictured himself slapping Kiki. The tray jerked and his lemonade spilt over the traycloth. There-that was thinking of Kiki again. He was so engrossed in trying to mop up the mess he had made that he didn’t notice someone rather small sidling in at the door.
It was the parrot, come to find out where Gustavus was. Kiki’s sharp eyes had missed him at supper-time. Then where was he? Upstairs?
Kiki went under the bed and explored the slippers and boxes there. She pecked at one of the boxes, trying to get off the lid. She loved taking off lids.
Gustavus heard the noise. What was it? He looked round the room.
Peck-peck-peck! The lid wouldn’t come off. ‘Who’s there? Who iss it?’ said Gustavus, in an anxious voice.
Kiki debated what noise to make. She had a grand store of noises of all kinds. There was the screech of a railway train going through a tunnel. No-that would bring Mrs. Cunningham upstairs, and she would be angry. There was the lawn-mower-a most successful noise, but also not very popular indoors.
And there was quite a variety of coughs-little short hacking coughs-deep hollow ones-and sneezes. What about a sneeze?
Kiki gave one of her most realistic sneezes. ‘A-WOOOOOSH-oo!’ It sounded very peculiar indeed, coming from under the bed.
Gussy was petrified. A sneeze-and such an enormous one-and under the bed! WHO was under the bed? Someone lying in wait for him? He began to tremble, and the lemonade spilt again.
Kiki began to cough-a deep, hollow cough, mournful and slow. Gustavus moaned. Who was it coughing under his bed now? He didn’t dare to get out and see. He was sure that whoever was there would catch hold of his ankles as soon as his feet appeared on the floor.
Kiki next did a very fine growl, and poor Gussy shivered so much in fright that his tray nearly slid off the bed altogether. He just clutched it in time. But a plate fell off, hit one of his shoes standing nearby and rolled slowly under the bed.
Now it was Kiki’s turn to be surprised. She hopped out of the way and glared at the plate, which flattened itself and lay still.
‘Help! Help!’ suddenly yelled Gussy, finding his voice at last. ‘Someone’s under my bed. Help! Help!’
Bill was up in a trice, striding over to Gustavus. ‘What is it? Quick, tell me.’
‘Under the bed,’ said Gussy, weakly, and Bill bent down to look. There was nobody there. Kiki had decided that the joke was over, and was now safely inside the nearby wardrobe, her head on one side, listening.
‘You mustn’t imagine things, old chap,’ Bill was saying kindly. ‘There’s nobody under the bed-and never was. Nobody at all! I’ll take your tray and you can settle down to sleep!’
Chapter 4
OFF TO LITTLE BROCKLETON
NEXT day was bright and sunny, with big piled-up clouds racing over the April sky.
‘Like puffs of cotton-wool,’ said Dinah. ‘I hope it’s going to be like this all the hols.’
‘I’m going to get the car,’ said Bill. ‘When I hoot I shall expect you all to be ready. Allie, you can sit in front with me, and Lucy-Ann must squeeze there too, somehow. The other four can go at the back. Luggage in the boot. And if anyone wants to be dumped on the road and left to walk, he or she has only got to behave badly, and I’ll dump them with pleasure.’
‘I really believe you would too, Bill,’ said Lucy-Ann.
‘Oh, not a doubt of it,’ said Bill, putting on such a grim face that poor Gussy was really alarmed. He made up his mind that he would behave superlatively well, and he immediately put on his finest manners. He opened doors for everyone. He bowed. He tried to take whatever Mrs. Cunningham was carrying, and carry it for her. When he got into anyone’s way, which he did almost every minute, he sprang aside, bowed, and said:
‘Excuse, plizz. I pollygize.’
‘Polly put the kettle on,’ said Kiki, at once. ‘Polly, Polly-Polly-gize.’ Then she went off into an alarming cackle of laughter.
‘How’s your finger, Gus?’ asked Jack, politely.
‘It has stopped blidding,’ said Gus.
‘Well, I warn you-don’t try and play tricks with old Kiki,’ said Jack, ‘or she’ll go for you-make you blid again-much, much blid!’
‘Ah, wicket,’ said Gus. ‘I think that bird is not nice.’
‘I bet Kiki thinks the same of you!’ said Jack. ‘You’re standing in my way. You’d better move unless you want this suit-case biffing you in the middle.’
‘Excuse, plizz. I pollygize,’ said Gussy, hurriedly, and skipped out of the way.
At last everything was ready. Mrs. Cunningham’s charwoman came to see them off, promising to lock up after them, and come in every day to clean and dust. Bill was hooting loudly. Gussy was so terribly afraid of being left behind that he shot down the front path at top speed.
Bill, Mrs. Cunningham and Lucy-Ann squeezed themselves into the long front seat. The other four got into the back. Gussy shrank back when he saw that Kiki was going with them, apparently on Jack’s shoulder, next to him.
Kiki made a noise like a cork being pulled out of a bottle-POP! Gussy jumped.
Kiki cackled, and then popped another cork. ‘POP! Pop goes the weasel. Gussy. Fussy-Gussy, Gussy-Fussy. POP!’
‘What do you think you’re doing, Gussy?’ said Jack, seeing the boy slipping from the seat down to the floor.
‘Excuse, plizz. I pollygize. The Kiki-bird, he spits in my ear-he goes POP!’ explained Gussy, from his seat on the floor.
Everyone roared. ‘Don’t be an ass, Gussy,’ said Jack. ‘Come on up to the seat. Squeeze in at the other end if you like, next to Dinah. But I warn you-Kiki will wander all over the car when she’s tired of sitting on my shoulder.’
‘Blow your nose,’ said Kiki sternly, looking down at the surprised Gussy.
‘All ready, behind?’ called Bill, putting in the clutch. He pressed down the accelerator, the engine roared a little and the car moved off down the road.
‘Heavy load we’ve got,’ said Bill. ‘What a family! This car is going to grunt and groan up every hill!’
It did, though it was a powerful car, and one that Bill used in his work. It swallowed up the miles easily, and Mrs. Cunningham was pleased to think they would arrive at their destination before dark.
‘What is the name of the place we are going to, Aunt Allie?’ asked Lucy-Ann. ‘Oh yes, I remember-Little Brockleton. Are we having a cottage, or what?’