Mr Gum and the Secret Hideout (8 page)

‘YISK!’ shouted Billy, as Polly stamped on his foot.

‘WOOF!’ said Jake, as he licked up a bit of chicken liver.

‘I DO NOT CARE FOR THE WAY YOU HAVE ABUSED THIS SHERRY FACTORY; AND FURTHERMORE I FIND YOUR LACK OF CONCERN FOR THE ENVIRONMENT GREATLY DISTURBING!’ exclaimed Old Granny as she swung her enormous black handbag from before the War into Mr Gum’s nose.

‘YAAAAA! You stupid old woman!’ he cried, teetering back towards the furnace. His grotty arms pin-wheeled for balance as he regained his footing. And suddenly – FLISSSSH! – his great red beard and his stovepipe hat were aflame, and as he emerged from the furnace he uttered a yell from the very depths of his soul.

‘YOU MESSED UP ME PLANS FOR THE LAST TIME!’ roared Mr Gum. And now it was as if he were possessed of a strength much greater than his own, for in his fiery fury the last of any goodness that might have been inside Mr Gum was burnt up, and he was more of a monster than a man. Or a ‘manster’ for short.

‘NAAAAAAARRGH!!’ he wailed.

‘FRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRRB!’

Roaring like a chimney, Mr Gum picked up Polly and hoisted her into a corner as if she weighed but an ounce.

‘SBUNVV!’

He whacked Friday across the room like a Brown Davy, the smallest species of insect known to man, which is smaller than one thousandth of an atom.

‘URGO-NASURN-GRUK!’

He grimaced at Old Granny and she fell over and everyone saw the weird old veins in her legs.

‘STTTRRIIINGGG!’

He kicked Alan Taylor the entire length of the factory floor.

‘NUUUURG!’

He whacked Billy in the face with a shovel.

‘OW!’ shouted Billy. ‘Whaddya do that for?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Mr Gum, helping the poor butcher to his feet by spitting on him. ‘Sorry, I gone out of me mind with uncontrollable rage there for a moment. Now come ON,’ he growled. ‘Let’s get shovellin’ again! One last barrel o’meat an’ that ought to do it! One last barrel an’ Lamonic Bibber slides into the sea like the idiot it is!’

The villains resumed their dark work, furiously stoking the furnace until from where she lay, limp on the floor, all Polly could see was smoke and all she could smell was meat, and all she could see was smoke. But I already told you that, pay attention.

‘He … He … can’ts get away with this,’ Polly wept. Desperately she pulled herself across the factory floor. She was so tired she could hardly move – but she had to try, for she wasn’t just anyone, she was Mr Polly of THE DEPARTMENT OF CLOUDS AND YOGURTS!

‘Hooray,’ said Polly weakly as she inched towards the villains. ‘Hooray for all what’s good an’ lovely in the world. Hooray for snowmen. Hooray for when you wakes up an’ you thinks it’s school but then you remembers it’s a Saturday an’ there’s millions of cartoons on TV. Hooray for that time I done went to that restaurant an’ you was allowed to make your own desserts an’ do as much ice cream as you wanted an’ you could put brilliant sprinkles on top. Hooray for friends who’s always stickin’ up for you, even if you accident’lly break their fav’rite doll cos you was tryin’ to make it fly in their back garden. Hooray for all that an’ much much more! Hooray, I says, hooray!’

Mr Gum barely heard her. He was holding a huge gristly cow heart, already aflame from the heat.

‘This is it, Billy me boy!’ grinned Mr Gum. ‘One last bit of meat! One last bit what’s gonna tip Lamonic Bibber into the sea once an’ for all!’

‘Yeah,’ cackled Billy William, who was so excited that he’d accidentally eaten his shovel.

Mr Gum hoisted the cow heart above his head.

He brought it towards the furnace.

The sunlight blazed through the window like dragon’s breath.

Billy did a burp which tasted of shovel.

‘Chuck it on! Chuck it on!’ he chanted.

And then –

‘OH-NO-YOU-DON’TS!’ cried Polly. With one last effort, she launched herself from the floor and wrestled the flaming cow heart from Mr Gum’s grasp. ‘You isn’t never gonna beat the Forces of Good, you unbearable, unbelievable ROO-DE-LALLY!’

‘Give that BACK!’ yelled Mr Gum, yanking at the burning piece of meat.

‘NEVER!’ cried Polly, yanking back twice as hard.

The cow heart stretched as it was pulled first one way, then the other. Great orange flames spurted from its rubbery tubes.

‘IT’S MINE!’ yelled Mr Gum through gritted teeth.

‘IT’S MINE!’ yelled Polly, digging her heels in.

‘IT’S MINE!’ said a third voice, bursting out of nowhere. ‘Yes, it is I!
Surprising Ben! I pop up here, I pop up there! Surprise! Surprise! I’m everywhere!’

And before anyone knew what was happening, Surprising Ben grabbed the flaming cow heart for himself and off he ran, giggling like a tangerine.

‘Hee hee!’ he giggled. ‘Hee – whoooooooooa!’

And then it was Surprising Ben’s turn to get a surprise. He skidded on a scrap of tripe and the cow heart went flying from his grasp, trailing a great long streamer of fire behind it.

In the middle of the factory the vat of sherry bubbled and sloshed.

‘WOOF! WOOF!’

Jake’s doggy eyes tracked the cow heart as it span through the air.

‘It’s going to land in the sherry!’ cried Old Granny. ‘The factory’s going to blow!’

The heroes of THE DEPARTMENT OF CLOUDS AND YOGURTS raced for the door. But Mr Gum and Billy weren’t listening.

‘You idiot, Billy! If you never led them meddlers here, none of this would’ve happened!’

‘MY fault? That’s a laugh, Mr Gum me old gobbler!’

The flaming cow heart flew through the air … – ‘Mr Gum! Billy! Stop your squabblin’s, we gots to get out of here!’