The gloves had been Ivan’s idea.
No one but Nelson could see or hear the monsters, but by having them all wear gloves, Ivan could not only see where they were, he could also use sign language to communicate with them. There was a fold-away blackboard for the monsters to write messages to Ivan, but teaching them all some basic sign language had made things more conversational.
One of Nelson’s monsters, Hoot – a large golden bird with a silver beak and a very high opinion of himself – had taken to wearing a top hat in addition to the gloves. Hoot thought it made him look even more handsome than usual, and no amount of mockery from the others could convince him otherwise.
As Nelson and Celeste entered Ivan’s workshop, Celeste saw seven pairs of floating gloves (and a top hat) rush towards her little brother. She stepped out of the way and turned to Ivan, who was pumping air into the front wheel of a bicycle.
Guess what? signed Celeste.
What? replied Ivan.
Pogo and Doody are going to get married! signed Celeste. Ivan’s eyebrows rose to their highest position as his brain processed this information. Then he grinned and burst into applause.
Nelson crouched so that Crush, the smallest of all his monsters, could leap into his arms and cling to his neck.
‘HONK!’ said the monster happily.
Being hugged by Crush felt wonderful. Like the deeply satisfying feeling of drinking hot chocolate when you’re very cold and tired, Crush sent a smile-inducing glow through Nelson’s body and brain. Crush had a delicious smell to him too, like the top of a newborn baby’s head, with a dash of caramel and a hint of baking bread.
All of the monsters had a distinctive aroma that only Nelson could smell. Stan, the bright-red and angry one with big horns and even bigger fists, smelt like used fireworks. Puff, the lazy one who resembled a large purple cat, gave off a scent that was a mix of lavender, vanilla and dusty library – unless he farted, and then the smell was so horrendous that even normal people could smell it. Nosh, the pink, glutinous, roly-poly member of the group, gave off the unmistakeable tang of the revolting juice that collects at the bottom of a bin, along with whatever he had just eaten. Hoot, the vain bird in the top hat, gave off a fake peachy smell. It reminded Nelson of the floor-cleaning fluid used to mop the school toilets. Miser, the greedy one shaped like a blue egg, with bulbous roving eyes and rubbery roving tentacles, smelt like the school toilets before they used the peach-scented floor cleaner. Finally we come to Spike, the envious cactus lookalike, who smelt faintly of lemons.
Despite their peculiar smells, looks and personalities, and the fact that none of them was as cuddly or affectionate as Crush, Nelson loved all his monsters equally.
‘What’s going on? Why do you need the cactus juice?’ he asked now, holding up the bottle. All of them answered at once and Nelson couldn’t understand a word.
‘Whoa! Stop! One at a time! Miser, what’s going on? I just saw the fruit bats outside.’
Though Miser rarely showed emotion, those bulbous eyes of his lit up at being the one chosen to answer Nelson. He cleared his throat before speaking.
‘Master Nelson, thanks to the fruit bats, we have received a message from London Zoo. Tango the gorilla is dying.’
‘What do you mean?’ As Nelson spoke, Crush closed his eyes and hugged Nelson’s neck even tighter.
‘According to the bats, she had a fight with the new male gorilla,’ said Miser hesitantly, and Stan, who could not bear it when someone didn’t get straight to the point, pushed Miser aside and finished the story.
‘The bats said Tango’s gonna be dead by morning if we don’t ’elp, all right?! So if we wanna save her, we gotta get that cactus juice to London Zoo or Tango’s little baby will be left without a mum.’
‘HOOOONK!’ went Crush.
‘Can I ask what’s going on yet?’ asked Celeste from across the room.
‘Uh . . . hang on, Cel,’ said Nelson.
‘Master Nelson, we needed your supply of cactus juice, for once again Spike has been sitting too close to the wood burner and dried out.’ Miser pointed to Spike, who was standing at the back of the group looking very sorry for himself. Spike’s rubbery green flesh had turned wrinkly and woody in texture. He sneezed and out of his nostrils flew a little cloud of dust rather than the usual magic green elixir.
‘Spike! You know this happens if you dry out!’ said Nelson.
‘I was cold! Anyway, not my fault if I fall asleep by the fire. Someone should’ve woken me up,’ groaned Spike.
‘Nah, never your fault, is it, Spike?! Naaah! Always someone else’s fault.’ Stan clearly wanted to give Spike a slap, but the angry monster wasn’t going anywhere near those cactus needles.
‘Stop arguing!’ cried Nelson. ‘I’ve got enough juice in the bottle for Tango. Crush and Puff – you’ll ride with me. Miser, Stan – you’ll ride with Ivan. Nosh, Hoot – you’re going with Celeste.’
‘What about me?’ protested Spike.
‘You’re staying here and drinking water until you are bright green again, got it?’ Nelson pointed to the basin at the end of the workbench.
‘Urgh! So boooring!’
‘Don’t you moan at me. It’s your fault you’re like this.’ Nelson shuddered. In that moment he had sounded exactly like his mother.
‘I take it we’re going somewhere, then?’ asked Celeste as she fastened the clip of her cycle helmet under her chin.
‘We’ve gotta go and save a gorilla at London Zoo.’
Celeste raised her eyebrows at Ivan, who smiled and shrugged in return, having lip-read Nelson’s response. She kissed him on his cheek for being such a patient boyfriend, though she couldn’t help but wonder when the novelty of looking after Nelson’s monsters would wear off.