‘What’s going on?’ Neville said, rubbing his pink, smarting cheek. If his mum and dad found out there was a troll in their home again, they’d scream the roof off. The last time Rubella and the Bulch family came up the toilet, they nearly destroyed his entire house. ‘Why are you here, Rubella?’
‘Get your thingies,’ the great chunker said, frowning. ‘You’ve got to come with me.’
Neville hesitated. He looked around his bedroom, wondering if his troll-parents, Clod and Malaria, were there too.
‘WELL? COME ON!’
‘Keep your voice down. Mum and Dad will go nuts.’
‘Just come on!’ Rubella growled, pushing her potato nose closer still.
‘Why?’ said Neville. He still felt like his head was inside a pillow. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Get up!’ Rubella snarled. She grabbed Neville’s hand and yanked it.
‘No!’ Neville shot back. He folded his arms and tried to look as stern as he could. ‘Not until you tell me what’s happening.’
Rubella plonked her walrus-sized bottom on the end of Neville’s bed.
There was a loud creaking sound and the entire thing flipped up, catapulting Neville and his pillows across the room. He landed on a pile of stuffed toys with an oomf!
‘It’s an emergency,’ Rubella said as the top end of the bed crashed back to the floor. She was still talking to the spot Neville had been lying on, not noticing that he’d shot off.
‘Something terrible.’
‘Oh no!’ gasped Neville, clambering back to his feet. ‘Is everything OK?’
Rubella spun round, puzzled to see Neville on the other side of the room. She shook her head dramatically and looked like she was about to burst into tears.
Neville’s heart jumped up into his throat. Considering that in the not-too-distant past he’d seen his troll-family swallowed by a sea monster, almost got his head chewed off by a slurch with teeth like screwdrivers, discovered his grandma Joan was really an evil troll-pirate, and had to break his troll-brother, Pong, out of London Zoo … this must be BAD!
‘There’s no time to explain,’ Rubella said, looking as if she was about to explode. ‘I need your help, Nev.’
‘OK,’ said Neville, grabbing his backpack and stuffing a few changes of socks and pants into it. ‘I’ll be quick.’ He thought about leaving a note for his parents, Marjorie and Herbert, but decided they probably wouldn’t notice he was gone anyway. ‘Let’s go.’
Rubella grabbed Neville by the wrist and led him out of his bedroom like an angry mother and her naughty child.
‘Walk faster,’ Rubella urged, knocking the laundry basket over as they stormed down the hall.
Neville cringed and prayed that his sister’s noisy lumbering wouldn’t wake his mum and dad as she clomped towards the bathroom. Predictably, the bathroom door had been snapped across the middle and was hanging off its hinges.
‘You could have been more careful.’
‘I was in a hurry,’ Rubella grunted. ‘Now, come on. We need to get Underneath.’
Inside the bathroom, Rubella swung Neville on to her wide, sweaty back and put one foot into the toilet bowl.
‘Hold on tight,’ she ordered. Neville clung to the turnips sprouting from his big sister’s shoulders and squeezed his eyes shut.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready!’ said Neville.
As the toilet flushed, they were instantly sucked into soggy, pitch-blackness.
Here we go again, thought Neville as he shot round the U-bend. He never could get used to it. Back down the loo.
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH …