SECTION THREE

In which we meet the great and wonderful and peculiar man who is Uncle Shawn. Even though he is unusual and wears no socks, without Uncle Shawn we’re all in trouble. So here he is.

Meanwhile, an extremely tall and quite thin person called Uncle Shawn was sitting near the river. His lanky arms were folded round his gangly, big legs at around about the height of his bony, big knees, which were tucked up under his chin. He was wearing no socks because he had given half his last pair to a young squirrel who wanted to play at camping and use it as a sleeping bag. The squirrel had never brought it back. Uncle Shawn knew that wearing just one sock would have made him lopsided – so he wasn’t wearing any. His trousers had very many holes and tears in them, which he didn’t sew up because he thought they made him look as if he had adventures. And there was a mother mole dozing in one of his trouser pockets. His other pocket was full of toasted cheese fingers, in case he got hungry. His eyes were blue as two pieces of sky on a good Bank Holiday Monday by the sea with extra crisps and ice cream. If you looked at him quickly, you could tell he was someone very fond of fun, and if you looked at him more carefully, you could tell that he was much more clever than he often pretended to be. And on Uncle Shawn’s head was Uncle Shawn’s gingery-browny hair, which stood up in spikes and waves and knots.

And if you looked at Uncle Shawn really, really carefully – which is how to find out about anyone properly – you would see that if you were in trouble, he was exactly the right man to help you. He was maybe one of the kindest and best humans in the world. But he didn’t know that and so he was sometimes a little sad.

Uncle Shawn had no friends he could really talk to at the moment, except for a mainly very serious horse called Paul, who was no good at jokes. And Paul was only visiting him and usually lived in Wales. Uncle Shawn had always wanted lots of friends to enjoy jokes with him, and maybe singing and dancing and cakes and things.

Uncle Shawn whistled, “Tootle-ootle-tooo,” and tried speaking to the rabbit that was resting near him in the sun: “What do you get if you sit under a cow?”

The rabbit blinked and nibbled some grass.

The man tried again. “All right then. What’s brown and sticky?”

The rabbit blinked once more and then closed its eyes as if it was going to doze off.

“Oh, dear. You’re no good at jokes, are you?” Uncle Shawn sighed unhappily. “What did the mother brush say to the baby brush?”

The rabbit started to snore gently and then twitch its back leg as if it was dreaming about running.

Uncle Shawn decided to pass his time by looking at the path ahead of him. He was particularly good at looking. And what he saw when he looked was very worrying. In the soft earth there were the paw prints of a young badger. First the paw prints had been walking, and then they had been turning, and then walking, then turning again. “Dear me,” said Uncle Shawn. “There’s a little badger lost somewhere.” And when Uncle Shawn stood up and walked and looked further up the path, he saw the small paw prints keep walking and wandering, and then… “Oh, dear. That’s not good.” There were the marks of great big horrible boots, slapping down angrily at the ends of some huge person’s feet, and then the boot prints were stomped on top of the paw prints. And there was a smell of horribleness and stale pies. And there was a place where two little paws had scrabbled and tried to get away from something. “Well, that’s not good.” And then the paw prints disappeared. And the boot prints went back the way they’d come, only they seemed to be sinking into the earth a bit more than they had – as if the boot-wearer was heavier by about the weight of a kidnapped badger.

Uncle Shawn shivered. Uncle Shawn frowned. Uncle Shawn shook his head and folded his arms. “That needs something doing about it…” He frowned harder. “If that doesn’t need something doing about it, then I’m not Uncle Shawn.” He checked the name sewn inside his jacket, which said UNCLE SHAWN. “And I am Uncle Shawn!” He grinned. “So I must plan a plan – a rescuing plan.” He felt in all his pockets, found a bit of toasted cheese finger and ate it thoughtfully. “Somewhere, there’s a small badger in trouble…”

Uncle Shawn followed the footprints until they moved onto a big tarmac road and he couldn’t follow any more. But this didn’t mean he’d given up. He peered about so that he could remember the place before he went back to Paul the horse and got him to help search for the badger.

While he was peering about, Uncle Shawn noticed a hilltop in the west where it appeared to be raining incredibly hard, even though where he was standing the evening was warm and dry and pleasant. He noticed – because he was particularly good at noticing – that there were four llamas on the hill. “Hmmm…” hummed Uncle Shawn. “Llamas are unusual in these parts. And those llamas look unhappy.” Even though the llamas were very far away, Uncle Shawn could recognize an unhappy llama when he saw one. “And they look as if they are homesick. And wet. And it seems they have nowhere nice and dry to keep cosy. That’s not right.” He patted and tugged at his wavy hair and pondered. “Something should be done about that… So… I’ll need another plan…”

He also noticed that the sun was setting beautifully behind the pine trees and that three young squirrels – one of whom Uncle Shawn suspected still had his sock – were enjoying the view and singing about it. He shuffled his feet and said softly to no one, “How lonely it is to see such a good sunset and have no one to watch it with me. And how sad it is to have never met anyone who is good at jokes.” He had another think to himself and then murmured, “That’s a lot of things that need something doing about them … and maybe not much time to do them in … and there are a lot of plans to plan…” And then he grinned the biggest grin he had ever grinned. “And so I will start now.” He began running on his long, long legs back towards Paul the horse. “I will do my best and then a bit better than that, and it will be a real adventure!” And he ran faster than he ever had done and felt excited and scared and brave and tall and happy, all at once. “I do hope we all get a happy ending and that nothing terrible happens…” And he ran even faster and made whooping noises. This surprised the siskins.