‘What now?’ asked Neville, barely able to speak. He was still trying to catch his breath after climbing up the hundreds of rocky steps from the beach below.
‘How should I know, you squirmer?’ Rubella huffed. She looked at Neville with a face like a pink, smacked bottom and scowled. She hated exercise. ‘I don’t know why I had to come all the way up ’ere … she’s your blunkin’ grandmooma.’
Neville didn’t say anything. He watched as Rubella clomped off up the path, muttering to herself. This was all wrong. Beyond her, the Clunk loomed like something from an old black-and-white movie, soaring up and up into the gloom. It was a giant tower of iron girders and rusted rivets. At the top, like the lamp on a lighthouse, was a single cage, and in it a figure paced back and forth. Neville’s heart jumped a beat in fear. He could hear his grandmooma bellowing from all the way down on the ground.
‘Come on!’ Rubella shouted over her shoulder. ‘Stop being such a wimple.’
Neville didn’t dare to argue. He followed closely behind his troll-sister as she plodded heavily along. It was like she didn’t notice where they were. Neville glanced over the edge of the cliff path to the water far below. He could see Old Barnacle resting on top of a buoy among the rocks.
‘’ELLO!’ the haggard troll shouted, waving. ‘BRING ME BACK SOMETHIN’ SQUIBBLY!’
Neville waved back and forced a smile. Something squibbly? What in earth was he going to find at the Clunk that was squibbly? He’d be lucky even to make it out alive, let alone bring back souvenirs.
Neville was concentrating so hard on not falling over the edge of the cliff and not bursting into tears or being sick with anxiousness that he hadn’t noticed Rubella stopping. He walked straight into the back of her and nearly wedged himself right between her walrus-sized buttocks.
‘GET OFF!’ Rubella snapped.
‘Sorry, Rubella.’ Neville wrenched himself out from between the boulders. ‘Yuck!’
‘What did you say, whelp?’
‘Nothing,’ Neville replied quickly. He scampered round his enormous sister before she could thump him – then stopped in his tracks. They’d reached the foot of the massive metal prison. Neville looked up and thought it seemed like some kind of demented Eiffel Tower.
There was a neat, rusty building over to one side with a sign by the door that said THE CLUNK PRISON OFFICE.
Neville looked at Rubella, then back at the little building.
‘Right,’ Rubella said. ‘’Ere goes.’ She lumbered over to the door, lifted the iron knocker and then let it go with a swing of her chunky arm. It struck the metal with a low, dull boom that shook the air and rattled Neville’s teeth. Almost instantly the sound of bolts being drawn and keys clicking could be heard on the other side of the door. Neville and Rubella glanced at each other, but stayed silent.
Clunk … Click … Snap … Ti-ti-tick … Clack …
Suddenly a small, envelope-sized hatch about halfway up the door slid open with a bang. An eye the colour of pennies appeared and looked at Neville, then at Rubella. After having a good stare it slid upwards until there was a mouth showing instead.
‘What?’ said the mouth.
‘Erm …’ Neville fidgeted. ‘Hello. I’m … um … I’m Neville Brisket and this –’ Neville pointed at Rubella – ‘is Rubella Bulch.’
‘So?’ said the mouth.
‘We’ve come to see Lady Jaundice,’ Neville whimpered.
‘Tourist visitin’ hours are over,’ said the mouth. ‘Come back tomorrow.’
‘Oh,’ Neville said, blushing. Rubella shoved him towards the door. ‘Sorry. You don’t understand. I’m Neville Brisket – B-R-I-S-K-E-T. Lady Jaundice – The Troll That Stole – is my grandmooma.’
‘Well, mangle my mushrumps,’ said the mouth. ‘I didn’t realize it was you. We’ve been expectin’ ya.’
With that, the little hatch slid shut and lots more bolts and chains and locks started clicking and clanking on the other side of the door. Then, with a gush of musty air, the door creaked open and a short, portly troll in a patchwork prison-guard’s uniform waddled out into the torchlight.
‘’Ello,’ the guard said, looking Neville up and down as if he was wondering what he tasted like. ‘You’ve been the talk of the Clunk for yonks and yearlies, you ’ave.’
‘Why?’ said Rubella, scowling.
‘Why?’ laughed the prison guard. ‘We heard ole Jaundice had waffled off and become an overling. When we found out that her nipster was comin’ to pay her a visit, we all took bets on what you might look like.’
‘Oh,’ said Neville. ‘And do I?’
‘Do you what?’
‘Do I look like you thought I would?’
‘Well, it’s hard to say,’ said the guard. ‘I was imageratin’ you might be a lot taller … what with you overlings not havin’ a ceilin’. Is it true you lay eggs?’
Rubella smacked her hand over the guard’s mouth and leaned in close. ‘We’ve had a bad day,’ she growled. ‘A VERY BAD DAY! Are you goin’ to let us see Jaundice or aren’t you?’
The prison guard peeled Rubella’s stumpy fingers away from his face and frowned. ‘Of course,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Where’s my manners? I’m Bile … Prison Officer Bile. Come in and make yourself at home.’
‘About blunkin’ time,’ Rubella huffed. She pushed past Bile and clomped in through the open door. ‘Dungle droppings!’
Bile smirked at Neville for a second, then turned and followed Rubella, leaving Neville alone on the office front step.
Neville looked up one last time at the terrifying building that vanished into the darkness. Every little bone of his body told him not to go up there … but he had to. The Bulches were depending on him, and Lady Jaundice was the only one who might know how to get them out of the gundiskump.
‘Think of Captain Brilliant,’ Neville whispered to himself, then he took a deep breath and stepped inside.