9
At last tea was finished and Tallulah offered to set up the machine. ‘Because Smug is all paws and claws when it comes to putting it together,’ she explained.
But, as it turned out, she made quite a mess of it herself. She became more and more flustered as Smug shouted instructions at her, running every which way and yapping the whole time. Dash watched in horror as the dog leaped up on to the counter and jumped from there to the twirly-whirly chairs, clearing the surfaces in the salon as he went by, sweeping the bottles of shampoo and the brushes and curling tongs on to the floor.
Meanwhile Tallulah unplugged all the hairdryers and placed a pile of beautifully folded towels on to the sofa. Then she rushed around like a whirlwind with armfuls of wires and plugs, fixing them into the sockets and muttering to herself as she went.
‘Raaaoooooow!’ Muffles was not amused as she had been having a particularly satisfying dream about chasing a mouse, and all this noise and kerfuffle had woken her up.
‘Excuse me!’ barked Dash. ‘Could you please be more careful? It took us ages to—’
‘Dash,’ said Mrs Fudge, ‘don’t interrupt. I am sure Tallulah needs to concentrate.’
‘Yes,’ agreed the girl. ‘It is very important to be focused while working. Tidying up can always wait. That is what Grandfather says.’ She frowned as she peered at two more plugs in her hand and searched for more sockets. ‘Aha!’ she said, spotting one near a dog basket by the floor. She reached for the plug that was already there and pulled it out.
Dash growled. ‘That was my electric blanket,’ he complained. ‘I was warming that up for later.’
Honestly, he thought again, who DO they think they are? Coming here with their long words and stupid inventions . . .
Tallulah meanwhile was twisting and turning all manner of dials and cogs and buttons. The machine started to click and hum and hundreds of tiny coloured lights began flashing on and off in a pretty pattern.
‘Oooh!’ said Mrs Fudge.
‘Aaah!’ said Pippa.
Tallulah was keeping up a running commentary on what she was doing, and as most of the words she used were impossibly long and confusing, Smug had to chip in with slightly easier-to-understand explanations along the way.
‘She’s saying that that button there will be the one to use for a quick trim,’ he said, indicating a small red button which looked alarmingly similar to a number of other small red buttons. Pippa decided she would ask her friends to produce some sticky labels so that she and Mrs Fudge would not get confused when they came to use the machine.
‘And this mechanical arm here,’ Smug went on, ‘will be useful for mixing hair dye, and this hand here can be used to apply the dye—’
‘I’m beginning to wonder if this machine might take over from me completely,’ said Mrs Fudge. She was trying to sound light and jokey, but there was a hint of wobbliness in her voice.
‘Well, now you come to mention it,’ began Smug, ‘I think you’ll find that the machine will free you up to—’
Dash could not keep quiet a moment longer. ‘Now listen here!’ he exploded. ‘No one and nothing, not even the world’s most fantastically designed robot, could replace Mrs Fudge! She is totally one hundred per cent irreplaceable. Isn’t she, Pippa? Pippa . . . ?’
But once again, no one was listening to Dash. They were all waiting, holding their breath, to see what would happen next. Everything was now in place: the plugs were plugged in and the switches were flicked on and the buttons were flashing and the humming things were humming, and the machine was basically all set and ready to go. Pippa slowly put out a hand to touch it – all those red, blue and yellow buttons looked so inviting – but her new friend jumped in front of her.
‘NO!’ shouted Smug, making Pippa jump so high she almost leaped right out of her stripy tights. ‘I’m sorry to startle you,’ said the pug more quietly, ‘but you absolutely must not touch anything until I have explained exactly how the invention works.’
Dash cocked an ear at this. ‘Oh really?’ he said. ‘So you’re saying this machine is dangerous? In that case, Mrs Fudge, I strongly recommend that—’
‘Dash, dear, please allow them to demonstrate,’ said Mrs Fudge.
Smug’s wrinkly face wrinkled up even further, into something resembling a smile. ‘Thank you, Mrs Fudge,’ he said. Then, turning to Pippa, ‘Firstly, I shall require a model.’
‘A model what?’ asked Pippa, who was feeling giddy with confusion and excitement. ‘A model citizen?’ she went on. ‘A model aeroplane? A model village? A model train?’
Tallulah waved her hands to silence Pippa. ‘No, no!’ she chortled. ‘He means a model – you know, like a fashion model! We’ll need someone to sit in the chair here –’ she indicated where she had fixed one of the twirly-whirly chairs into the machine.
Smug nodded. ‘And then I will ask what style madam requires – I believe that is the wording one uses in hair salons, is it not?’
‘And what would you know?’ Dash muttered. ‘By the looks of Tallulah’s hair, she has never set foot in a hair salon before today.’
The pug narrowed his eyes. ‘As I was saying, who would like to sit in the chair so that I may demonstrate the usefulness of my machine?’ He looked around the expectant group.
‘Not me!’ said Tallulah. ‘I am very fond of my style just the way it is.’ She patted her bouncy red cloud of hair to show just how fond of it she was.
Dash let out a snort.
‘Of course, Tally, of course,’ said Smug. ‘But what about Pippa?’
Pippa shook her head nervously. The last time she had let anyone near her hair, it had been a very painful experience.
‘I shall be your model,’ said Mrs Fudge. Everyone turned to look at the little old lady. She was holding her chin in the air, her face flushed with excitement.
Smug jumped up on to a chair next to the machine so that he was closer in height to the old lady and said, ‘We were hoping for a . . . er . . . shall we say, less mature candidate?’
Dash immediately threw himself at the chair Smug was on, yelping and snarling. ‘How dare you be so rude about Mrs Fudge!’ he began. He did not get very far though, due to his legs being so under-long. He stood up on his hind paws, snapping and growling, while Smug sat quietly on the chair, smiling in a satisfied way.
Pippa noticed that Mrs Fudge’s face had fallen and she was not looking so excited any more.
‘I – I am sure that the machine will work on anyone,’ said Tallulah.
‘Well, I should jolly well hope so,’ said Dash. ‘Our customers are all ages, shapes and sizes, so if your machine cannot cope, then I think you should take it away right now—’
‘Hello, darlin’s! What is all de racket and hullaballoo around here dis fine afternoon?’
‘Raphael!’ cried Dash, immediately rushing over to greet his friend. ‘Thank goodness you’re here. Someone sane – at last.’