Uncle Shawn and Bill and the Almost Entirely Unplanned Adventure Page 6

  “Please now, llamas,” begged Uncle Shawn, “jump! Before you have to look at Bettina McGloone’s cardigan. It’ll make you sick. And her face… It’ll make your fur change colour.”

  Meanwhile, the McGloones panted and struggled closer. They had run a long way round and round the fence and they weren’t very fit and it was very muddy, which was making it hard to keep going – but still they had reached eight o’clock. And Uncle Shawn was only at where ten o’clock would have been, if they had been running round a nice, safe, big clock instead of a muddy, scary, deadly fence at the top of a round, wet hill.

  The llamas stayed still and snuffled and shuffled their hooves. Brian Llama licked his sore hoof. It wasn’t really sore, but he always licked it when he was upset.

  It didn’t help that Fred McGloone (who never usually said anything ever) then screamed at everyone, but mainly Uncle Shawn, “I will suck the marrow from your bones and then make them into whistles, you lanky, smiley, nasty… YOU KNOCKED DOWN OUR HOUSE. IT HAD OUR MONEY IN IT AND OUR KNIVES AND STICKS AND STONES AND CHAINS. REVENGE!” It was the most Fred had ever said and he was getting nearer, at the head of all the McGloones.

  The smaller McGloones travelled fastest.

  Uncle Shawn just laughed and shouted back, “I can’t hear you – your face is making me deaf!” Which was a very rude thing to say, even to a McGloone.

  Bill decided he should talk to the llamas, because he knew how horrible it was to be stuck somewhere you didn’t want to be and to have lost hope. He tried to keep his voice as unjoggly as possible as he bounced about on top of Uncle Shawn’s shoulders while they sprinted along. He yelled to the llamas, “I know you’re scared. I’d be scared, too. But Uncle Shawn is a… He’s my friend. He’s my first friend… He’s my best friend… And you could come and…”

  “And you can stay with us,” suggested Uncle Shawn, as if this was a very good and sensible idea. He reached up to his shoulders and patted Bill’s paw. “You can all stay with me. We’ll have fun.”

  “Really?” whispered Bill.

  “Really,” whispered Uncle Shawn. “We just need to get the McGloones annoyed enough and then we can do the rescuing thing. Keep going. You’re saying just the right words in just the right order.”

  “I’m not sure I am.”

  “I’m sure enough for both of us,” said Uncle Shawn.

  And so Bill kept talking as Uncle Shawn ran along the outside of the fence and the mud got more trampled and the electricity, it seemed, got more annoyed. But it wasn’t as furious as the McGloones.

  The McGloones were passing four o’clock now and Uncle Shawn was only just about at five … which wasn’t far enough away…

  “Come and stay with us, llamas, and we’ll have fun together. And … and…” Bill was very scared and the fence was hissing and steaming in the grass like four hundred hot snakes… “We’ll have lemonade.”

  Brian growled, “We’ve been promised lemonade before.”

  “No, truly. Uncle Shawn has the best lemonade. Please jump.”

  And close, close, closer was the nasty noise of McGloones running and shouting at each other. “Get out of my way, stoat brains!”

  “I’ll ssskin those llamasss mysssself. I need a new handbag!” hissed Maude.

  And Bill thought he heard the clunking sound of llama knives banging together. “Oh, do jump,” he called.

  And then there were knives being thrown at him and Uncle Shawn and landing in the grass all around.

  “Please, llamas,” called Bill.

  The McGloones’ aim was getting better and better.

  “Just be a little bit brave.”

  The knives were getting nearer.

  “We’re not brave,” said the llamas.

  “Of course you are – you stayed in this horrible wet field for ages and didn’t get enough to eat and thought you were alone and that you were going to be made into pies – and you put up with all of it. You’re the bravest llamas I’ve met.” Actually Bill had never met any other llamas, but he didn’t mention that. “JUMP!”

  And an especially well-aimed knife whisked clean over the top of Bill’s head and gave him a new parting.

  “PLEASE!”

  And finally Guinevere Llama did jump and just cleared the fence, which crackled as she passed over and singed her ankle fur a tiny bit.

  Then she and Uncle Shawn had to keep running as the McGloones lunged at them. Socket Wrench McGloone went sliding under Uncle Shawn’s left foot, which he’d lifted just in time. The boy went slithering past down the muddy slope, saying bad words as he went.

  Then Carlos Llama jumped and was free and he immediately had to dodge Small McGloone and Bettina McGloone as they tried to grab him. They were again defeated by the mud, which caught at their big, heavy McGloone boots and slowed them. It was getting stickier and oozier the more Uncle Shawn jumped and sprang and ran and danced in it, round and round the field.

  And then Ginalolobrigida Llama leapt very gracefully and landed – not on purpose – right on Maude’s feet, squishing her bare toes and making her sit down hugging both her feet and looking like a pile of evil washing. The other McGloones tumbled over her and were now sloshing about in the mud, rolling and biting each other. But it wouldn’t be long before they were up on their feet again and galloping round the field in the big broad track of mud their chasing and Uncle Shawn’s racing had created.

  “Please, please, please,” coaxed Bill, still joggling on Uncle Shawn’s shoulder. “What’s your name, last llama? And why won’t you jump?”

  Brian Llama paused and said very quietly, “I’m Brian Llama.” And then he asked, “Is it really safe? I don’t think it is. I don’t think I can jump. I can’t.” While Bettina McGloone and Socket Wrench McGloone helped each other up and then helped Small McGloone, Brian whispered, “I’m much more scared than the other llamas.”

  And then – because the McGloones were all back on their feet and so near and so furious, everyone yelled, “BRIAN, YOU’RE THE BRAVEST, MOST FEARLESS AND MAGNIFICENT LLAMA WE’VE EVER MET!”

  The McGloones’ hands were reaching out and their teeth were grinding.

  “Blooming llamas!”

  “Chop their ears off!”

  “I’ll have a chocolate-and-cream-coloured handbag from them if it’s the last thing I do!”

  And Bill could smell how angry and rotten the McGloones were and he shouted to Brian Llama, “Come on and jump!”

  And Uncle Shawn and Carlos and Ginalolobrigida and Guinevere were all dodging and leaping in the mud to avoid McGloone hands that were trying to grab and McGloone feet that were trying to kick them and McGloone mouths that were trying to bite them. It looked as if they were all dancing for their lives, round and round the outside of the fence. Which they were.

  And Uncle Shawn shouted to the McGloones, “Are you sure you want to do this? Are you absolutely sure? Do you really want to be so very, very angry?”

  And Farmer McGloone yelled back, “We’re not nearly as angry as we’ll get!” And his head began to swell with fury as if it might burst.

  And Maude McGloone screamed, “I’ll ssscoop out your insssidesss like iccce cream!” She pointed at Uncle Shawn. “And I’ll use your ssskin to make a sssatchel!” Which soaked everyone, including Uncle Shawn, who just shook his head – maybe because he was sad for her and maybe because he was trying to get spit out of his eyebrows.

  And then he had to dodge another nearly successful grab at his throat from Myrtle McGloone, who jumped up at him as if she was on nasty, angry springs. Uncle Shawn called to Brian, “Now or never, young llama. You have to jump!”

  “Oh, just go on without me,” sniffled Brian.

  “WE CAN’T!” shouted everyone together, sliding and twisting and hopping round the muddy track they were making muddier by the minute. “YOU’RE OUR FRIEND!”

  Uncle Shawn yelled in his loudest yell, “YOU ARE A VERY BRAVE LLAMA! NOW COME HERE SO WE CAN HAVE LEMONADE AND FUN!”

&
nbsp; And finally Brian Llama did jump.

  And he was sad and tired and scared so his jump wasn’t very high.

  And everyone watched as it happened – even the McGloones.

  And it seemed that he couldn’t make it.

  And his whole llama face was really scared, but brave, too.

  And then, one-two-three-four, each one of his hooves just managed to miss the fence and carry him to freedom.

  And this made Bill and Uncle Shawn and all the other llamas cheer more loudly than they ever had, or thought they could.

  And this made Mrs McGloone and Farmer McGloone so completely furious that their ears really did catch light and then they just burst – POP POP – like two extremely horrible balloons that you would never want at a party.

  It was remarkable.

  And this made the other McGloones so angry that they used up the very last of their strength in chasing the llamas and Uncle Shawn (who was still carrying Badger Bill) as they took off round the fence again.

  “Fast as you can!” called Uncle Shawn. “Faster than you have in your lives! Run! I have a plan!”

  And so everyone took off in a splatter and scatter of mud, pursued by the remaining McGloones, even the limping Maude.

  And when he was right at the top of the field again – at midnight – and the McGloones were right at the bottom – at six o’clock – Uncle Shawn stopped. And then he asked everyone to make the rudest, most annoying faces they could at the McGloones. And he said that they should shout the most insulting insults they could think of.

  And this was very easy for everyone. “Slap feet! Barnacle brains! Lily-livered long-toothed layabouts!” They also said much worse things than that.

  And Ethel McGloone and Maude McGloone and Socket Wrench and Small and Bettina and Dusty and Fred McGloone heard the much worse things and then they all took one look at the llamas blowing raspberries and sticking their tongues out at them and Badger Bill crossing his eyes and Uncle Shawn pointing and laughing and wriggling his hair … and they made a terrible mistake.

  Each McGloone was too furious to be sensible (and they had all been quite stupid in the first place) and so they decided that the quickest way to get hold of the llamas and Bill and Uncle Shawn would be by taking a shortcut across the field…

  And that meant they would take a shortcut across the fence…

  They forgot about the fence.

  They forgot about the terrible electricity waiting inside the fence to sizzle whoever stepped on it. And their big, heavy, muddy boots and their big, heavy bare feet all stomped down at once with a huge furious BANG.

  And as soon as they stomped on the sneaky snaky wires, they were turned into toast. They were frizzled and fried and electrocuted into toast, with a fizzing noise and a puff of greasy smoke.

  There was a smell of bad pies and then nothing but silence as the wires lost all their electricity and went to sleep.

  And the shapes of what used to be McGloones were there in crispy bits of toast dust on the wet grass.

  And then the birds began singing and a gentle breeze whiffled past.

  And then there was the sound of four llamas and one badger and one uncle being out of breath.

  “Well,” said Uncle Shawn. “It is always very sad when someone is turned into toast … but they really did deserve it. They really did.” He nodded and sniffed and set down Badger Bill so that he could walk if he wanted, because there was no rush now. “I think that if we go this way, we will meet Paul with my caravan and we can have breakfast and lunch together, both at the same time because we deserve it. You’ll like Paul – he is very clever. He’s had lessons in seeing in the dark and staring at clouds and listening to vegetables and all the important subjects.”

  “Are those important subjects?” asked Bill.

  “Naturally,” said Uncle Shawn.

  Bill reached up to take Uncle Shawn’s hand, because they were best friends. And together with the llamas they turned their backs on the place where they had not been happy and set off towards somewhere that they would.

  SECTION EIGHTEEN

  In which there are a number of happy endings, because everybody deserves at least one. And as much cake as they would like, because it is a special occasion.

  By the following day, a small shower of warm, gentle rain had washed away the McGloone toast shapes. There was only a green hillside with some brown stains in its grass and a broken fence that had lost all its electricity and already started to rust. And where there had been unhappy farm buildings and sad pathways, there were only hollows and heaps of rubble.

  In a few years, people who passed near what had been McGloone Farm would only see some small hills and acres of bushes and trees and wildflowers and meadows, where a large family of goats had decided to live and run a little laundry business, beating the washing on rocks in the stream beside the hollow which had once been the old stables.

  Nobody would miss McGloone’s Luxury Llama Wool Socks because they made your feet feel sad and nobody likes to have sad feet.

  And where there had once been the sign for McGloone Farm, Uncle Shawn had taken away lots of the words so that it read:

  Which everybody who passed by thought was very sensible.

  And Uncle Shawn and Badger Bill and Paul and the llamas all travelled north after a monstrously huge lunch and breakfast of jelly and sandwiches and porridge and bananas and earthworms and lemon cake and hay and mint leaves and soup and custard and biscuits and jam roll. Paul pulled the caravan, Bill and Uncle Shawn sitting in it and the llamas trotting alongside, until they wanted a rest and climbed aboard and had their poor patchy coats brushed and their ears tickled by Bill, who thought he was going to like being with llamas.

  Soon it was the afternoon and everyone felt much better than they had in ages. They sang songs they made up as they went along:

  “Clouds in the sky see us all passing by

  And they wiggle their edges

  and look at the hedges

  And we are all free and very happee.”

  “Where do you live?” asked Bill as he jiggled next to Uncle Shawn on the driver’s seat of the caravan. He was eating an apple because he was still hungry. He was comfortable in his own badger fur and nothing else, and he had rolled in nice clean dust and brushed himself all over, lots and lots, until he had got rid of any McGloone scents that were left on him. He couldn’t stop smiling, which made his whole snout a bit different in a good way.

  Uncle Shawn said, “Many years ago – before I was born – my great-great-grandfather wrote in his will that his great-great-grandson should inherit a llama farm in a small bay on the sunshiny side of the country.” Uncle Shawn tousled his hair with his fingers and his hair tousled them back. “And I never enjoyed having the farm, because I was there all by myself and had no llamas and no best friend to help me…”

  Badger Bill’s heart got all excited about the idea of a llama farm and he listened with both ears and all his attention.

  Uncle Shawn grinned. “So if you would like, William J. Badger, you can live there with me.” He called to the llamas, “Would you like to stay with me somewhere on the sunshiny side of the country? In a llama farm with llama barns and llama hammocks and lemonade troughs? I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do with it all until we had our adventure and you rescued me…”

  “But you rescued us,” said Brian Llama.

  “That’s how it works,” said Uncle Shawn. “You never rescue anyone without getting rescued back.”

  And the llamas were very happy, if slightly tired. They had been drinking lots and lots of Uncle Shawn’s excellent lemonade and eating sweet grass and too much jam roll. Guinevere had hiccups.

  “Yes, I’d like it,” said Carlos Llama. “But Brian should decide.” The llamas turned to smile at Brian and he blushed under what was left of his fur and thought about licking his worry hoof.

  “I’d like it, too,” said Brian. “I would, a lot. I would like to be with my friends ther
e.”

  So the llamas cheered and Uncle Shawn and Bill cheered and Paul snorted and huffed, “Well, I’m glad that’s sorted out, because I have to be in Aberdeen on Monday. Some of us have busy lives, you know. Then I have to go back to my home in Welsh Wales. Send me a letter when you want the caravan again. And I’ll need more warning next time.”

  And everyone cheered again, so that Paul would smile a little bit – he had lots of big, horsey teeth that it was enjoyable to see. Then they trotted on until they reached the small bay, way up in the north of Scotland on the sunshiny side of the country.

  As they came down the soft, sandy path which was perfect for walking on with bare feet or tired hooves, they could see a fine-looking farmhouse. There was a veranda in front of it and some sturdy barns and green fields of rich grass, and the sea breeze made all of them feel very happy, but also very sleepy.

  So they unpacked the caravan and had tea and just a little bit of trifle and some small cakes and a pot or two of jam. Then they waved goodbye to Paul and then they explored.

  The llamas found that all of the barns were clean and cosy and had good llama hammocks, but the one with the view of the sunset was the best, so they picked that one to live in. Then they nibbled some grass and drank some lemonade out of the trough that Bill filled for them.

  “Well done for being brave, Brian,” said Guinevere Llama.

  “Well done for helping me to be brave,” said Brian.