5
That afternoon when Pippa went to Chop ’n’ Chat she talked of nothing but Tallulah and Smug. A very bored Dash soon took himself into the kitchen, curled up in his basket and went to sleep.
Sadly Mrs Fudge was soon fed up with Pippa’s constant chatter too. Especially when it became clear that Pippa was so fizz-poppingly excited that she was not paying full attention to the customers.
‘Pippa, dear,’ said Mrs Fudge, struggling to keep her voice kindly and calm, ‘I feel you are a little distracted this afternoon.’
But Pippa was still chattering away. ‘And then Tallulah said—’
‘PIPPA!’ cried Mrs Fudge.
‘Oh, sorry, what?’ said Pippa.
‘As I was saying – I feel you are a little distracted.’ Mrs Fudge nodded towards the dog-grooming table, where Penelope Smythe was perched, looking quite anxious (as well she might, seeing as Pippa was pointing some dog clippers in her direction). Then the old lady gestured to a twirly-whirly chair where Penelope’s saluki, Sukie, was sitting contentedly, a cape and a towel around her neck, her tongue lolling happily out of the corner of her mouth.
‘OH!’ cried Pippa, rushing to correct the situation. She charged at Penelope, with the intention of helping her down from the table, but she was still holding the clippers. The poor lady needed no more proof that she was about to be groomed instead of her pooch. She screamed loudly and leaped in the air. She landed with a thud on Muffles, who had chosen that moment to stalk a spider that had scuttled in from the garden.
‘Help!’ cried Penelope.
‘Raaaooow!’ shrieked Muffles. (The spider said nothing, but made a clean getaway.)
‘Woof-woof-woof!’ exclaimed Sukie, who immediately assumed a game had started and bounded off the twirly-whirly chair to chase Muffles out of the salon.
Mrs Fudge was sent spinning as the dog knocked her off balance.
‘That does it!’ she shouted above the cacophony. ‘I’m going to have to ask you to go home, Pippa.’
‘I should say so!’ agreed Penelope crossly, picking herself up.
‘But – I’m – I’m so sorry,’ spluttered Pippa.
‘It’s no good you being here, dear,’ said Mrs Fudge, ‘if your mind is elsewhere. You can come back when you are ready to be useful again. I would rather have my hands full than have you cause such a commotion.’
Poor Pippa. She never meant to cause anyone any trouble, let alone her dear friend Mrs Fudge. And she had never heard the lovely old lady sound so cross with her before. But as she surveyed the scene that she had helped to bring about, she realized that she must do as she was told. ‘All right,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll go.’
The next day Tallulah and Smug were late, so Pippa did not get a chance to talk to them until break-time. So she fidgeted and wriggled during lessons, itching for the bell to hurry up and ring so that she could run outside into the playground and talk to her new friends.
But then, who would not fidget and wriggle if they had a person such as Mr Guttersnipe for their teacher? The minute he arrived in the classroom he was shouting out such teacherly nonsense as, ‘Sit down and shut up and use your ears and mouth in their correct proportions.’ And then he warbled on, explaining a maths problem which would demonstrate how many apples it takes to make Susie decide to swim across the Channel with only one flipper (or something).
Mr Guttersnipe could have announced that he was giving away free chocolate and Pippa would not have reacted because she just could not concentrate on what he was saying.
I have to find a way to get Tallulah and Smug to Chop ’n’ Chat, she was thinking. I know Mrs Fudge and Dash will love them once they have met them. But Mrs Fudge was so cross with me yesterday. Perhaps she will not ever want me back, let alone want to meet my friends? she thought sadly. Unless I can do something extra-specially nice for her that will make her pleased with me again.
‘Pippa Peppercorn!’ An annoying nasal voice broke into her sad thoughts.
Pippa looked up and saw an enormous pair of hairy nostrils. It was like staring into a snotty forest.
‘Urgh!’ she said.
‘No, Miss Peppercorn,’ said Mr Guttersnipe (for that is who the nostrils belonged to). ‘That is not the answer I was looking for.’
The whole class sniggered.
Pippa felt a tap on her knee and looked down to see Smug holding out a piece of paper to her.
‘Read it out,’ the pug hissed.
Pippa looked up nervously. Mr Guttersnipe’s nostril hairs were still dangerously close and the class’s sniggering was becoming louder.
‘So, as I thought,’ sneered the teacher, ‘you were not paying attention. In which case, I suggest that you stay behind after school and—’
‘Fifty-six metres per second,’ Pippa said loudly.
‘Report to the Head at—’ Mr Guttersnipe began. Then, ‘Oh, right . . . so you were listening. That’s – that’s very good, Pippa,’ he said. He straightened up and coughed to cover his embarrassment. ‘Yes, well, in future it would be nice if you replied straight away, rather than making me come over and wring the answer out of you.’
And in future it would be nice if you didn’t lean in so close and show me all your nostril hairs, thought Pippa.
At least she thought she had thought it, but the teacher’s face went a deep shade of purple and he spluttered, ‘WHAT did you just say, Pippa Peppercorn?’
Tallulah quickly jumped in and said loudly, ‘This is a most fascinating lesson. My teachers at my old school never taught such intriguing things. Would you mind explaining exactly what you meant just then about the relation of x to y, Mr Guttersnipe?’
‘Ah, yes, I’m glad you asked me that, Tallulah,’ said the teacher, his face returning to its normal colour. ‘It is always lovely to have intelligent questions from the class.’
(Teachers are so easy to distract in this manner. Try it sometime. You’ll be amazed. You really will.)
The rest of the class rolled their eyes and muttered ‘geek’ and ‘weirdo’ under their breath, but Pippa smiled gratefully at her new friend and reached down to give Smug a quick pat.