Neville and Halitosis heaved the basket into the wings of the stage and panted. Hinkapoots were heavier than they looked.
‘That’s squibbly,’ Halitosis said to Neville. ‘Thanks.’
‘I can’t wait to see them do their trick,’ Neville said.
‘I know!’ Halitosis laughed, pulling a nervous face. ‘It’s right at the end. Don’t miss it.’
‘Promise,’ Neville said.
With that Halitosis ambled off, leaving Neville to have a look around.
A lot of the acty-trolls were already gathered on the stage, warming up, as Neville wandered out. He soon began to enjoy the sensation of being unseen behind the front curtain and hearing the audience chattering excitedly and the band rehearsing on the other side. This was going to be fun.
Thicket was doing squats in the corner and flexing his bulging arms. He was wearing a cape made from an old bath towel, with holes for his thorn briars, and a dented crown on his head made from old bent keys.
‘Grotsome,’ he said, winking and smiling at the girl dancers as they giggled past. ‘Totally grotsome.’
Neville rolled his eyes and turned away. Where had Rubella got to?
‘Magicky, spookery, trickedy!’ Gristle Pilchard was still dangling on the end of a rope, practising her lines and waving both her wand and her walking stick. Neville looked at her curiously. In addition to her sparkly dress and wings, she’d stuck on a tufty wig and a long curly beard.
‘Why does she have a beard?’ Neville asked Dunk as he trudged by. The technicky-ratchetydoo-dah-troll looked at Neville as if it was the most stupid question ever.
‘She’s the furry bog-mother,’ said Dunk. ‘She’s got to be furry.’
Neville nodded and laughed. ‘Of course.’
‘Anyway, it’s nearly showtime, Nev,’ Dunk said. ‘’Elp a troll out and straighten that cloth, will ya? It’s all wonksome.’
Neville looked to where Dunk was pointing. He was right. The massive cloth painted like a troll ballroom had a huge bulge in the middle of it.
‘No problem, Dunk,’ Neville said. He felt extremely grown-up and brave, doing jobs for the technicky-troll. ‘Won’t be a minute.’
Walking over to the cloth, Neville gave the bulge a great big push to try and flatten it out.
‘OY!’ came Rubella’s voice. ‘BUNGLE OFF!’
‘Oh, Rubella,’ Neville yelped. ‘Is that you?’ He bent down and wriggled underneath. ‘I was wondering where you’d got to.’
‘NO, DON’T COME UNDER!’ ordered Rubella. ‘YOU MUSTN’T –’
It was too late. Neville squirmed under the heavy cloth and gasped. Rubella was wearing her turnip costume and a very unhappy scowl on her face.
‘I look like a blunkin’ nogginknocker!’ Rubella bellowed. She was wearing a huge round ball with holes for her hands and feet. It had been painted to look like the rough purple skin of a turnip and even had little roots drooping down between her chubby ankles.
‘I was going to say “squibbly”,’ said Neville, desperately trying not to laugh at her little hat with green leaves sprouting out of it.
‘I hate you!’ Rubella sobbed. She attempted to smack Neville across his head, but couldn’t reach because of the armholes. ‘AAAAAARGH!’
‘MY DUNKLINGS!’
The stage went silent. Neville grabbed Rubella’s hand and pulled her out from behind the scenery cloth. Everyone was staring at Abominatia as she walked on to the stage with Gruntilda trailing behind in her bed-sheet ballgown. The bony girl took one look at Rubella and snickered.
‘IT IS TIME!’ Abominatia announced. ‘I’M SURE YOU’LL ALL BE WONDERBUNKIN’ AND AMAZEROUS …’
Everyone smiled and nodded.
Everyone stopped smiling.
‘I’LL KILL YOU!’
Everyone looked worried. Very worried.
‘PLACES, PEOPLE! OPENIN’ POSITIONS! GO!’