The Grunts In Trouble (13 page)

This must have been what all the hammering and bashing that was going on inside the caravan had been about. But what had Mr
Grunt built the trailer for? Storing elephant feed? Sunny seriously doubted that Mr Grunt would be that well organised.

“I see you’re admiring my craftsmanship,” said Mr Grunt, appearing at his side. He was wiping what appeared to be mud off one side of his face.

“Very nice,” said Sunny. “What’s it for?”

“What’s it for? What’s it
for
? Isn’t it obvious what it’s for?” asked Mr Grunt. He was trying to rub off the mud with an oily rag now.

“Not really, Dad,” said Sunny, “which is why I asked.”

“It’s more of a
who
than a what,” said Mrs Grunt. She had a mouthful of currant bun, having discovered the sack of them Larry Smalls had left for Sunny to feed Fingers.

“Who?” asked Sunny, wondering whether the “who” in question might actually be him,
and that the trailer might be his very first bedroom. Sure, it was small and outdoors, but—

“It’s for Clip and Clop, of course!” said Mrs Grunt. “Now that Fingers is going to pull our home, they can have a well-earned rest.” She stared at Mr Grunt. “What’s that all over your face, mister?”

“The remains of that mud you threw at me, wife!”

Mrs Grunt gave a triumphant leer, showing off her teeth – the yellow
and
the green ones – to great effect. “I had no idea I was such a good shot.”

“Don’t leer with your mouth full,” grunted Mr Grunt, who’d seen more than enough
half-chewed
currant bun in hers.

Sunny, meanwhile, was feeling a flood of relief. So the two donkeys would still be part
of the family…

Family
.

Now, there was a word. Because, in their own strange way, of course, that’s exactly what that odd collection of people and animals was: a family.

“A trailer for Clip and Clop! That’s a great idea,” said Sunny. Then he paused and took a deep breath. It was time to try again. “I know you’re not big fans of helping people, but I really, really think we need to get to Bigg Manor as soon as possible—”

“Why on earth should we do that?” Mrs Grunt interrupted.

“The boy was about to tell us when you interrupted him,” said Mr Grunt.

“Then shut up and let him speak,” said Mrs Grunt.

“That’s exactly what I was telling YOU to
do, wife!” fumed Mr Grunt.

“We need to warn them that someone is planning to blow up the house!” said Sunny.

“Blow it up?” said Mrs Grunt.

“YES!” said Sunny.

“Then of course we must go there,” said Mrs Grunt.

“Definitely,” said Mr Grunt. “I wouldn’t want us to miss a good explosion. I love a good explosion!”

“Me too!” said Mrs Grunt, thinking back to her science lessons at school. “Come on!”

Now, Sunny could have wasted time arguing that the whole purpose of his getting to Bigg Manor as soon as possible was to try to STOP there being a big explosion, but a waste of time was all it would have been. With Mr and Mrs Grunt excited at the prospect of witnessing a big bang, Mrs Grunt was quick to get Clip and
Clop aboard their new custom-built trailer at the back, while Mr Grunt and Sunny hitched Fingers up to the newly adapted harness at the front of the caravan.

“A perfect fit!” said Mr Grunt. “Let’s get going!”

So off they headed, a slightly puzzled Clip and Clop enjoying the view and feeling the wind whizzing between their ears, and an excited elephant pulling them at impressive speed, eager for adventure. 

Chapter Thirteen

Law in Action

W
hen they arrived at Bigg Manor, Sunny felt that they were as late as one could be without actually being too late. Sticking out of every window of the house was … was …

“Dynamite!” Sunny gasped.

Up above the rooftop, brilliantly coloured birds circled and swooped, and squawked in dismay. Sunny could clearly make out Monty, the parrot that had been eyeing his nose in the potting shed, his beautiful plumage catching the fading rays of the sun.

There was no difficulty in Fingers pulling the Grunts’ caravan, trailer and all, up the drive because the gates – those hated gates – hung crooked, broken and wide open where something had rammed them apart. One of the lion-topped pillars was badly scraped, the fresh scars showing white against the weathered stone, where something had hit it hard. And that something was stationed on the lawn before them now, right by the pond where Mimi had hidden from the bees.

It was a giant of a mechanical digger with a huge yellow scoop on the front with jagged teeth of metal. And it was in that scoop – now raised in its highest position – that Larry Smalls stood. Yes, he was wearing his BIGG AIN’T BEST T-shirt but (quite apart from the crazy glint in his eyes) there was something very different about him: it was the bow and arrow he was brandishing. Instead of being pointy, the tip of the arrow was wrapped in cloth. And, from the way that the cloth was burning, it had obviously been dipped in something … something like
petrol
.

Sunny could see the servants crowding round the base of the digger. There was Sack the gardener, Jack the handyman (also known as Handyman Jack) and a woman he took to be Jack’s wife, Agnes the cook and maid, and someone else – a spiky red-haired man – who must be Peach the butler.

There was no sign of Mimi. Sunny gulped. Was she still inside the building?

He had already jumped down from the caravan and was rushing towards the digger. The servants were being prevented from reaching Larry Smalls by a small but dedicated group of ex-circus performers. Jeremy the juggler was running up and down, juggling flaming clubs and nasty-looking knives. There was also a very large man who had no neck to speak of – his head just seemed to join his body – who was wearing
a beautifully tailored pink-striped shirt, and a frightening expression on his face. He was bending enormous metal bars as if they were as floppy as Lord Bigg’s ten-year-and-
one-week
-old railings. And there was Mr Lippy, in full clown clobber – including a squirty plastic rose on his lapel – cycling around the digger on a tiny bicycle, firing green gunk from a super-soaker at anyone foolish enough to try to get too near.

Hitched to the front of the Grunts’ caravan, Fingers caught sight of his old friend Mr Smalls, raised his trunk and let out a mournful trumpet.

Larry Smalls turned and saw Sunny and the others. “Oh, you came!” he shouted. “And you’re just in time!”

“Wait!” shouted Sunny. “Where are Mimi and Lord Bigg? How can you be sure the
house is empty?! WAIT!”

“Fire the arrow! Fire the arrow!” shouted Mr and Mrs Grunt in an unusual example of unity. “Do it now! Do it now! Do it now!” they chanted.

There was sudden movement at the
right-hand
side of the house, and Sunny could make out two figures climbing from a window on the middle floor and shimmying down a drainpipe with the speed and agility of acrobats.

The Chinn Twins!
thought Sunny.
It must be the Chinn Twins!

And how right he was. Having reached the lawn, the Chinns were now cartwheeling and somersaulting to a safe distance.

“Ready?” shouted Larry Smalls from on high.

“Ready!” replied the far-off voices of the twins.

“This is for the animals of Smalls’ Big Top!” cried Larry Smalls. But Sunny hadn’t been idle all this time. As far as he knew, water put out flames, and what was that fish pond over there filled with? Plenty of the wet stuff. He knew from an article (in a newspaper that Mr Grunt had used to wrap up a dead badger before cooking) that elephants were good at sucking up water in their trunks and spraying it everywhere. So all he needed to do was to combine the two: to get Fingers to suck up the water from the fish pond and to squirt out Mr Smalls’ blazing arrow …

… but Sunny wasn’t altogether sure where Fingers’ loyalty lay. Certainly, he and Fingers were together now, but the elephant had years of history with Larry Smalls and, even if Fingers
was
now loyal to him rather than Larry, he didn’t feel too comfortable about
making him act against his old friend Larry’s wishes.

What decided it for Sunny was Mimi. Or the absence of Mimi. For all Sunny knew, she was inside the manor stuffed to the gills with dynamite, about to be blown to smithereens.

So Sunny hurried Fingers to the fish pond and the elephant sucked up water at incredible speed. Sunny turned Fingers to face Larry Smalls … but it was too late.

As the jet of water squirted from the perfectly aimed elephant trunk towards the flaming arrow tip, Larry Smalls let loose the arrow and it arched through the air landing gracefully
in the wide-open front doorway, where it spluttered and sparked, before erupting into the first of a sequence of stupendous explosions. “NO!” screamed Sunny.

“Nice one!” screamed Mrs Grunt.

“Yay!” shouted Mr Grunt.

Handyman Jack, Peaches, Agnes and Sack stopped trying to reach Larry Smalls now – there was little point; the damage was done – and they turned to watch the spectacle. Mr Lippy stopped pedalling the tiny tricycle, Jeremy stopped his dangerous juggling, and Trunk ceased the bar-bending and grimacing (though he continued to wear his very nice pink-striped shirt). All eyes were on the big event.

As they watched open-mouthed, Lord Bigg
suddenly appeared at a window and – without so much as a second glance down – jumped. If Lady “La-La” Bigg hadn’t at that self-same moment appeared round the side of the manor – presumably from the pigsty – with Poppet the pig in hot pursuit, he may well have done himself a serious injury. As it was, he landed directly on top of the pig, who seemed more disgruntled – and grunty – than damaged by the whole experience.

But there was something odd about these explosions. All but one of the onlookers were expecting crumbling masonry and thick black smoke as Bigg Manor collapsed in an inferno. But instead, as each stick of
so-called
dynamite ignited, it shot in the air – or wherever it could – with a trailing of glittering sparks, like a firework … which was hardly surprising because that’s exactly what they were: fireworks.

As everyone suddenly realised that they were watching a fabulous firework display, the mood of the onlookers changed. The servants, Jeremy and Mr Lippy started “Oooo”-ing and “Ahhhh”-ing. Trunk looked absolutely delighted, and a childish grin spread across his face. Sunny let out a sigh of relief, and even Mr and Mrs Grunt settled down on the grass to watch. But Larry Smalls was incandescent with rage. If you didn’t know what “incandescent” meant, you do now, because that was just how blood-
vessel-burstingly
, humongously ANGRY Larry Smalls was.