“Champagne, sir?” said Lord Rader-Wellorff’s butler.
Barry didn’t quite know what to say. He was overwhelmed as it was, sitting in the back of a stretch Rolls-Royce. He hadn’t even known such things existed until Lord Rader-Wellorff’s chauffeur pulled up in it outside the Parent Agency.
“I don’t think I’m allowed to drink champagne. I’m only nine,” he said.
“Ha ha ha! This is special children’s champagne, Barrington!” said Lady Rader-Wellorff, who was sitting at the other end of the stretchy bit of the car with Lord Rader-Wellorff.
Peevish (the butler) had filled their glasses and moved over to Barry, holding out the bottle and a glass on a silver tray. They had been driving for about an hour down a long road.
“Yaahs!” said Lord Rader-Wellorff, which Barry had realised by now was how he said ‘Yes’. “Château Bolly-Wolly-Doodle-All-the-Day 1993. Seven hundred pounds a bottle! Tastes of grapes, lemonade and Sherbet Dib Dab!”
“All right then,” said Barry. “Thank you… Peevish.” Peevish bent his head towards him – well, his whole body in fact, as Peevish didn’t seem to be allowed to sit down and so could only stand in the car by bending over – and filled his glass.
Lord and Lady Rader-Wellorff lifted their glasses towards Barry.
“Cheers!” they said.
“Cheers!” said Barry, raising his own glass. This, he thought, is going to be brilliant.
It had all happened very quickly. Well, quite quickly. After Barry said the words “rich parents”, the Head had smiled and nodded at The Secretary Entity, who were writing the words down. Then there was clearly a moment where no one quite knew what to do next; and suddenly the Head went, “Oh! Right!” and pressed another button on the machine in front of him and said: “Send up the Rader-Wellorffs!”
Then there was a second slightly awkward moment when no one said anything for a bit. The Head offered Barry another sour Haribo from his box, but Barry knew that if he ate a lot of sour sweets in one go he’d get a tummy ache, so he said no. And everyone just sat in silence for four or five minutes.
Then there was a knock on the door and after that things did start happening very quickly. The Head stood up and said, “Come in!” and suddenly into the room burst a man in plus fours and a tweed jacket, holding a pipe, and a woman wearing a huge flowery dress with pearls and a wide-brimmed hat which had what looked like a model of an enormous country house perched jauntily on the top of it.
“This is the most exciting day of our lives!!” she said, and the two of them immediately circled round to give The Secretary Entity an enormous hug.
“No, er… Lord and Lady Rader-Wellorff,” said the Head gently as The Secretary Entity began to look quite frightened. “Your one’s over there. He’s called Barry.” He nodded his head towards Barry.
They looked over, confused.
“Bah-rie?” said Lord Rader-Wellorff.
“No, Barry.”
They looked at each other. “Do you mean… Barrington?” said Lady Rader-Wellorff.
“Er… Is that what Barry’s short for, Barry?” said the Head.
Barry sheepishly shook his head. “I don’t think so…”
“Well, never mind!” said Lady Rader-Wellorff. “We can always change it later. To Jeremy or something. When you’re… our son!!”
And then the faces of Lord and Lady Rader-Wellorff broke into two very big smiles, which – considering they both had very white, very protruding teeth, like horses – nearly blinded Barry.
“This is the most exciting day of our lives!” said Lady Rader-Wellorff, and they rushed over, circled round him, and hugged.
As Barry downed the last drop of Château Bolly-Wolly-Doodle-All-the-Day 1993, thinking, Blimey, it really does taste of grapes, lemonade and Sherbet Dib Dab, the stretch Rolls turned off the main road and into a small village. A sign said Bottomley Bottom. In the middle of the village stood a huge pair of iron gates, which opened automatically as they approached.
“Would you like a better view of the house and grounds, sir?” said Peevish to Barry, following a wink from Lord Rader-Wellorff. Peevish was still bent over. It didn’t look very comfortable, especially as he was wearing a black suit and tie with a high starchy collar. Barry rather wished he could ask him to sit down.
“Er… Yes, please.”
Peevish whispered something to the chauffeur, who pressed a button near the steering wheel. Barry heard a smooth shushing noise above his head and felt a breeze ruffle his hair. He looked up. A rectangular panel in the roof of the car had opened, showing the clear blue sky above. Barry stood up and his top half was out of the car.
It was amazing. The car was travelling up a long gravel path, bounded on both sides by very tall pointy trees. Barry could feel the wind in his face. Then the Rolls turned out of the trees and up a little hill, to reveal a huge stately home, like ones Barry had only seen before on TV (and once when his family had gone on a day trip to Hatfield House, but then their car had broken down in the car park and they had had to stay there and wait for the AA to arrive, so he only saw it from a distance). And somewhere else… He had seen this house somewhere else…
A second later, Lady Rader-Wellorff popped up beside him, smiling. “Welcome, Barrington, to Bottomley Hall!”
And then Barry realised where he had seen Bottomley Hall before. On Lady Rader-Wellorff’s head. Or, to be more precise, on her hat, where the little model of it was presently trembling in front of his eyes as if a wizard had shrunk the real one to a thousandth of its normal size.
“Yaahs!” said Lord Rader-Wellorff, sticking his head out of the roof too.
“Oh, that’s better,” said Peevish, whose head appeared last, as he groaned with relief and tried, in the small space left in the roof rectangle, to stretch his lower back.