The Wombles Go round the World (13 page)

Meanwhile Tomsk, equally thickly, was talking about cricket to Great-great Aunt M. Murrumbidgee; and for once in his life, he realised that he had met another Womble who knew just as much about googlies, off-spinners, bouncers and Chinamen as he did. As he'd never had a chance to talk really seriously about cricket before, he enjoyed it a great deal. What was more he got so carried away – which was most unlike Tomsk who was usually a silent sort of Womble – that he contradicted his very elderly Australian relation several times.

Cairns and Perth, who had tiptoed in to have a quick snack, held their breath. Not one of the New South Wales Wombles had ever dared to contradict Great-great Aunt M. Murrumbidgee. With their ears back and their paws poised for instant flight, they waited for Tomsk to be demolished. Instead of which, Great-great Aunt M. Murrumbidgee actually smiled and said, ‘Well, I dunno, for a London sort of Womble you talk a lot of good sense, young Tomsk. I don't mind telling you when I heard over the Womblex that you were coming, I thought it was a lot of nonsense. However, if you really want to know what's been happening to us Australian Wombles, I dare say I wouldn't mind telling you. Young Wellington, get out that notebook of yours and stop going on about pies and puddings. Are you ready?'

‘Ready,' said Wellington. ‘However, sorry, but first of all I must finish telling Eucula about moss-cream you know.'

Wellington is a very tidy-minded Womble and, once he has started to do something, he can't bear not to finish it properly. As he was about halfway through giving Eucula this particular recipe he couldn't stand the thought of not completing it. His voice was quite mild, but firm, and in a dim sort of way it reminded Tomsk of Great Uncle Bulgaria.

Great-great Aunt M. Murrumbidgee, who hadn't been spoken to in that tone of voice for a long, long time, stiffened, snorted and blinked her eyes. Cairns and Perth began to tiptoe backwards towards the door, Eucula went very still and Tomsk, who suddenly felt extremely weary, yawned as quietly as he could behind one paw.

‘Oh, my word,' said Great-great Aunt M. Murrumbidgee. ‘Well, I'd never have thought, to look at the pair of you, that you'd got so much of the old Outback Womble spirit in you! No, I wouldn't. All right, all right, I'll have to tell you about The Good Old Days when all we had to do was to clear up a tucker-bag or two.
Tsk, tsk, tsk
. 'Night all.'

‘Goodnight,' said Tomsk and Wellington, politely getting to their back paws, and quite unaware that either of them had behaved in the least unexpectedly.

‘Tell you what,' said Tomsk to Cairns and Perth, who were still standing rigidly to attention, ‘I'd like to try out that left arm spin that Great Aunt – er – that she was talking about. Perhaps we could have a go tomorrow, mm?'

‘Mm,' said Cairns and Perth. ‘Mm, rather.'

‘Now then,' said Wellington to Eucula, who for some strange reason was sniffing and snorting and blowing her nose, ‘for the rest of the ingredients you need . . . I say, sorry, but is anything the matter?'

‘Nothing,' said Eucula. ‘Oh my goodness, I never thought to see the day when a couple of young London Wombles would get on the soft side of Great-great Aunt M. Murrumbidgee. Go on then, you were saying?'

‘Well, you take two cartons of moss and . . .'

.

Chapter Eleven

Crackers, Balloons and Kites

‘Now this,' said Orinoco, ‘is more like it.'

‘It's all right,' agreed Bungo doubtfully, ‘but a bit steamy. Are you there, Orinoco?'

‘'Course I'm there,' replied Orinoco, having a good stretch. ‘It's like a nice warm fog, isn't it?'

Bungo nodded. He was wearing a very large towel and a doleful expression as he sat on a stone slab surrounded by clouds and clouds of hot steam. Somewhere in the middle of all that steam was Orinoco, also draped in a large towel. But, although he could hear Orinoco's voice and the stretching sounds, Bungo would have been a great deal happier if he could have actually seen his friend.

‘It's a bit foreign, isn't it?' said Bungo in a whisper.

‘'Course it's foreign. This is Japan. Very clean sort of Wombles, the Japanese kind. Need to be, I expect, with all that smog and fog and stuff. Can't be very good for them,' replied Orinoco. ‘Dare say they have a lot of falling fur and hard paw. You all right, Bungo?'

‘Not
very
all right,' said Bungo in an uncertain voice. He wouldn't have cared to admit it, not even to Orinoco, with whom he had now shared dozens of adventures, but he was quite desperately homesick. He would have done a month's tidying-up work with no holidays at this very moment, if only he could have heard Great Uncle Bulgaria's voice telling him that Bungo was a silly sort of name, but that it suited him. It would have been equally wonderful to hear Tobermory going ‘
tsk, tsk, tsk
; problems, problems . . .'

‘Mm,' mumbled Bungo.

‘Now look here,' said Orinoco, suddenly appearing out of the hot mist with his towel draped over his head, ‘this is the last country we're going to visit. And it's a very important country too. Can't quite remember why, but I know it is. Something to do with pollution and rubbish and that. Anyway, we're here and we've jolly well got to behave properly, so stop sniffing and blow your nose . . .'

‘Haven't got a handkerchief . . .'

‘You've got a perfectly good towel – use that. Just remember to keep bowing – they seem to like that, can't think why – and anyway the food'll be good. That's always something to look forward to.'

‘Mmmm,' said Bungo, blowing his nose frantically on the edge of his towel.

‘Nothing like food for making you feel cheerful,' said Orinoco, ‘Hallo, something's happening. Thank goodness for that. All this washing and cleaning is very tiring. I haven't had a really good forty winks for days.'

The hot, steamy mist cleared slightly as a shutter was raised and a tiny Womble wearing a long and very pretty robe appeared. She bowed three times and said in a soft voice, ‘Please to come this way. Yes?'

Orinoco bowed in return and gave Bungo a kick on the ankle. Bungo bowed and sniffed.

The tiny Womble shuffled forward at a surprising rate on her wooden sandals, and bowed again as she ushered them into a small changing room, where two beautifully embroidered dressing gowns were laid out. Beside them were Orinoco's broad-brimmed hat and Bungo's cap, and two pairs of wooden sandals.

What with the dressing gowns being rather long and the sandals rather difficult to walk in, the two Wimbledon Wombles soon discovered that the easiest way was to shuffle.

‘In here, please,' said the tiny Womble, bowing again.

A bell sounded softly and Orinoco and Bungo, shuffling and tripping, found themselves in a medium-sized room. There were coloured pictures on the walls, two long, low tables and at the far end, a kind of small platform, on which sat a silky-grey Womble wearing a very splendid dressing gown indeed. He had what appeared to be two big knitting-needles criss-crossed at the back of his head, as a sort of decoration. He also had a long, drooping grey moustache and a small black silk cap tipped towards his nose.

Orinoco and Bungo considered themselves to be pretty widely travelled Wombles of the world by this time, but this personage was unlike any other Womble they had ever seen. They glanced at each other and then bowed deeply.

‘Welcome,' said the grey Womble, bowing even more deeply. ‘Welcome to our most humble burrow.'

‘It's not at all humble – I think it looks like a jolly nice burrow,' said Orinoco politely. ‘I'm Orinoco and this is Bungo.'

‘Am Cousin Tokyo.'

‘Honourable Cousin Tokyo,' said Orinoco, who had been doing his homework.

Honourable Cousin Tokyo took his front paws out of his sleeves and held them wide, as he went on in his soft voice, ‘Please to sit down and eat.'

‘Thanks,' said Orinoco. ‘I
am
a bit peckish as it so happens. It's all this travelling about, I expect. It smells jolly nice, whatever it is.'

‘So glad.'

However, even Orinoco's face fell a bit when an enormous and quite delicious-smelling dish was put in front of him, together with two small wooden sticks. He looked hopefully for a spoon or a fork, and then watched as Honourable Cousin Tokyo picked up his two sticks in one paw and dipped the ends into his bowl.

‘Shouldn't be too difficult,' muttered Orinoco and, hoisting up the sleeve of his dressing gown, he tried to copy Honourable Cousin Tokyo. Being quite a quick learner when he put his mind to it, Orinoco was soon eating very fast indeed. He only got the food to his mouth about one time in every three, but, as the food, although unusual, was extremely tasty, he made up for what he missed by sheer speed.

Bungo, who was still suffering from bad home-sickness, didn't care too much and ate what he could off one stick.

‘Amazing, astonishing,' said Honourable Cousin Tokyo as he looked at Orinoco. ‘You will have some more, please?'

‘Yes please, rather,' said Orinoco. ‘Nice kind of food you have here. Tasty. Reminds me of the food we had in Chinatown.'

‘You have been to China?'

‘Not exactly,' said Orinoco through rather a large mouthful. ‘Chinatown, you know, it's a place in America. Met some Chinese-American Wombles there. Got a lot of tidying-up problems.'

‘Ah,' Honourable Cousin Tokyo sighed and nodded. ‘We too have many such problems. Japanese Human Beings are thrifty and do not throw away much, but they have so many factories, cars and lorries. Much pollution in main cities. Japanese people making poison for themselves all the time. Many Human Beings have to wear mask.'

‘Same thing in San Francisco,' agreed Orinoco. ‘I say, could I have just one more tiny helping?'

‘Help self.'

‘Ta. How do you deal with it? Here, young Bungo, if you've finished eating you'd better make a few notes, you know. Great Uncle Bulgaria won't be at all pleased if you get home with empty pages in your book.'

‘Empty pages in
my
book!' said Bungo, forgetting to be homesick because he was so indignant. ‘There're hardly
any
full pages in your book.'

‘Nonsense. Full of recipes and that. Get a move on and don't argue. Sorry, Honourable Cousin Tokyo, you were saying?'

Bungo heaved an enormous sigh and did as he was told. Really it wasn't fair. Here he was, being worked into the ground, while all Orinoco did was eat.

‘Is very important to take notes,' said Honourable Cousin Tokyo, bowing towards Bungo. ‘Great responsibility.'

‘I know,' said Bungo in an offhand kind ofway. ‘Still
somebody
has to do it and, of course, it's
particularly
important to write
Vol. Ten
. Great Uncle Bulgaria couldn't manage it without me, you know. Please carry on.'

‘In big cities,' said Honourable Cousin Tokyo, ‘we are working in three ways. One is cracker. Allow me to demonstrate.'

He clapped his silky paws and immediately a tiny Womble appeared, carrying what looked rather like a bundle of fireworks. She put it down gently on a square piece of stone, and then took off one of her wooden sandals and hit them sharply. There was a faint fizzing sound and then a
crack, crack, crack
noise, and a very thin cloud of bluey-green vapour appeared. It grew bigger and bigger and thinner and thinner until it vanished altogether.

‘Breathe deeply,' commanded Honourable Cousin Tokyo.

The Wimbledon Wombles did as they were told. The air seemed to smell of grass and flowers. It was a very nice smell indeed.

‘Is cracker way of getting rid of factory and petrol smells,' said the elderly Womble. ‘Works well in small streets. Now show you next way. Come please.' He got up and went to one side of the room and slid back part of the wall. Bungo, holding his notebook, and Orinoco clutching his two wooden sticks, followed obediently.

The view on this side of the burrow was really very pretty indeed. There were a great many small flower beds and tiny trees, all set in terraces with steps which led from one to the next. At the foot of the last set of steps was a large pool.

‘Gosh, isn't it tidy?' said Orinoco, licking off the last grain of rice from his paw. ‘It's about the tidiest place I've ever seen in my whole life.'

‘
Shh
, I'm taking notes,' said Bungo importantly.

‘Next, balloons,' said Honourable Cousin Tokyo and he clapped his paws again. Another tiny Womble appeared instantly. She was clutching a great number of strings, and at the end of each string was a large balloon. In fact, if she hadn't been wearing particularly heavy wooden sandals, she might have gone bobbing off up into the sky.

‘Let go,' instructed Honourable Cousin Tokyo.

The tiny Womble did as she was told with some relief, and the coloured balloons drifted upwards. Everybody tilted back on their heels to watch them (and in the case of Orinoco nearly over-balanced) and then quite suddenly the balloons swelled up and burst. A faint bluey-green mist appeared and then grew thinner and thinner until it had vanished.

‘Gets rid of pollution at middle-high places,' said Honourable Cousin Tokyo. ‘However, still problem of topmost high places. So are now working on that.'

‘My word,' said Bungo, scribbling away like mad. ‘But what goes higher than balloons?'

‘Is very good question, young Bungo. Our special vanishing ballons get to certain height and go
fizz, crack, bang
. Workshop has not yet been able to make balloons which go very far up into sky. So . . .' and Honourable Cousin Tokyo bowed deeply in the direction of a very pretty little log hut which had what looked like three roofs, one above the other, so that it strongly resembled a Womble wearing three hats. ‘So our most honoured and venerable Workshop Master, Hirado, is now working on stage three, which he will be most pleased to show you. Please.'

‘Thank you,' said Orinoco, feeling that something was called for in the way of politeness.

Honourable Cousin Tokyo bowed, so Orinoco bowed back. Everybody then bowed to everybody else and, for a fleeting second, Orinoco suddenly wished that he hadn't eaten quite so much.

A door in the log hut slid open and a Womble with yellowish-grey fur appeared, carrying what looked like a large, travelling trunk made of paper. It had a great many pretty drawings on the side, which reminded Bungo of the cups and plates that Shansi painted for the Wimbledon burrow.

‘Workshop Master Hirado,' announced Honourable Cousin Tokyo, bowing all over again.

Hirado returned the bow in a rather brief way. He was wearing a little black silk hat and apron and he had a rather long, grey moustache.

‘Ah,' he said, nodding at Orinoco and Bungo, ‘we have great problems.
Ssssss
. Who will lend me a paw, hm?'

With his worried look and his abrupt way of talking he made Orinoco and Bungo think instantly of Tobermory and so, of course, they both volunteered at once, because they knew that no Tobermory sort of Womble would stand for any trouble.

‘Me,' said Orinoco.

‘Me,' said Bungo.