In which everyone gets a happy ending. No surprises will happen here. Or maybe only one…
After a while, all of the bricks from the Institution were taken away and used to make houses for the guards and inmates who wanted to stay in Pandrumdroochit. The houses were lined up along a new road called Skreee Avenue.
Henry Witherbottom and some of the others who had been grey guards put on blindfolds so they wouldn’t have to see the Squishing Machine and then hit it with hammers until it was nothing but bits. Then they helped to paint a big new village sign that said:
On both sides.
And porridge cook Doreen helped to start a new porridge shop next door to the fire station, in the rooms where P’Klawz had once thought nasty thoughts and made nasty plans.
Pandrumdroochit slowly became the friendly place it always had been. And then it kept on getting even more friendly. And Unusual. And every morning, the postman hugged his cat Jemima and she purred like a tractor, and every second Thursday Mrs MacDonald’s cat sat happily in the apple tree, waiting for the firemen.
One warm Sunday, Uncle Shawn invited all of the villagers – new and old – to have a big party down by the seashore near the farm. There were mountains of toasted cheese and pancakes, and there was potato crumble and banana sandwiches and all kinds of wonderful things to eat. Bill didn’t cook anything at all – Doreen and the llamas and Uncle Shawn prepared everything so that he could have a rest. And it all may have looked Highly Unusual, but it tasted Unusually Good.
Bill walked on the beach with Uncle Shawn while the villagers paddled and Henry Witherbottom knitted, and Brian and Carlos looked for shells, and Guinevere and Ginalolobrigida had their photographs taken in lots of different hats by Peter and Hamish.
“You know, Bill,” said Uncle Shawn, “whenever you want us to do the cooking, or cleaning, you just ask. It was Too Unusual of us all to be so lazy. I myself am excellent at making spam sandwiches, ham sandwiches and jam sandwiches. And custard.”
“Maybe we can take it in turns to cook,” said Bill.
“Yes!” cried Uncle Shawn. “I will volunteer to cook for the whole of Limvember!”
“That’s not really a month,” said Bill.
“It should be.” Uncle Shawn smiled and winked.
“But, Uncle Shawn,” said Bill, “why were you being so Unusual?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Uncle Shawn.
“Well, you were hopping and sprinkling sugar on paths and making clicking noises.”
“I was ant-charming, Bill. I was making sure there would be no ants in the llama barns, drinking the llamas’ lemonade. I had to call the ants along new paths that went around the barns. That’s not Unusual, is it?”
“No, no.” Bill leaned against Uncle Shawn and asked, “But what about when you were hanging upside down from a tree and counting…?”
“Well, someone has to teach the young squirrels how to do acrobatics.”
“But why were you throwing jam sandwiches?”
“They were for the wasps to enjoy – so that they don’t get grumpy. Grumpy wasps are a bit stingy. And you never know who else might need a jam sandwich, so it’s best to leave some about the place.”
“Well, I suppose…” Bill wasn’t sure if Uncle Shawn was teasing him. “But what about the times when you were patting the waves and making Unusual noises?”
“Like this, you mean?” Uncle Shawn walked straight into the sea and tickled and patted the water. “I do this so that the sea doesn’t get too rough. I am adjusting the waves.”
“Oh, I see,” said Bill, and he paddled out into the water, too – only up to his very shapely badger knees, because he still couldn’t swim. “You were adjusting the sea.”
“That’s why grown-ups go paddling – to make sure the sea stays the right shape.” Uncle Shawn smiled. Then he said, “BoioioioioioiWoahOOP.”
Bill was about to ask him why when he felt hands grab his ankles very quickly and pull him deeper into the water until – oh dear! – he was on his back and bits of sea were going up his stripy nose and then he saw – oh, even more dear! – the face of P’Klawz looking at him from under the water and glaring with his nasty, cruel eyes.
OH NO!
While water gurgled in Bill’s ears, he realized that P’Klawz must have run away when no one could see him because of the cloud of powdered teeth. Then he must have hidden himself somewhere. Bill saw in P’Klawz’s eyes that it must have been somewhere with lots of room to get angrier than ever.
Bill was holding his breath, but he couldn’t for much longer.
(And P’Klawz really did have a certificate for underwater swimming.)
But Bill couldn’t swim! Not at all!
EMERGENCIA!
With his poor frightened head underwater, Bill heard Uncle Shawn call out, “BooWOOoooAAAhbWahWupWup. BoiboiOOOOoioioip!” And he felt Uncle Shawn catch hold of his arms and start pulling them.
But with P’Klawz still pulling his feet, this meant Bill was not just underwater, but being stretched underwater! And he could see P’Klawz was smiling with no teeth and saying in a bubbly voice, “You made my teeth ethplode. You ruined my planth! Revenge!”
Then out of the thick, dark water, there appeared a gargantunormous pair of eyes. The eyes winked at Bill as if they had met before. (They had.) Then the eyes stared very hard at P’Klawz.
And P’Klawz saw them and said in a bubbly voice, “Ahhhh!”
P’Klawz let go of Bill and then the fake doctor started to swim much faster than he did on the day when he won his only real certificate.
Uncle Shawn’s strong hands pulled Bill up out of the water and patted his back and smoothed his ears. “You’re safe now, Bill.”
“Oh, Uncle Shawn, Uncle Shawn!” coughed Bill. “I’ve seen those eyes before! They told me a joke!”
And Uncle Shawn laughed. “Of course. Those are the eyes of my good friend Mr Hubb, who is a whale. We often have chats in Whalese.”
“Nonsenth! You can’t talk to whaleth! There’s no thuch thing as Whalethe!” shouted P’Klawz, who was so furious with Uncle Shawn that he couldn’t help coming to the surface to yell more insults. “You’re a fat, little badger!” But, as our pals watched, the great big eyes of Mr Hubb got closer and closer to P’Klawz – and so did his great big mouth…
Mr Hubb the whale swallowed Sylvester Pearlyclaws the Unusually Nasty man who pretended to be Dr P’Klawz, even though that wasn’t his name and he wasn’t a doctor.
“I don’t like thith!” said P’Klawz, his voice rather muffled because of being inside a whale. “I hate you all!”
The whale turned round in the water and flipped his great big tail goodbye and then swam away.
“I’ll be back!”
“Goodness,” said Bill. “That was Unusual.”
“Maybe a little,” said Uncle Shawn. “But then again, Mr Hubb comes here a lot because I tell him jokes. All whales enjoy jokes.”
“Do you think P’Klawz will be all right?”
“Oh, about as all right as he ever could be. Mr Hubb will swim far away, and by the time he spits him out (I’m sure he tastes very bad and sour) P’Klawz might have learned to be nicer. Or he might at least have learned some jokes.”
And for a while, Bill and Uncle Shawn watched Sam dancing with the bit of thin air that was actually Sky, her footsteps showing along the sand.
“I’m here!” Sky shouted, delighted.
“You’re there!” shouted Sam.
And while Sky hugged her brother and Ginalolobrigida trotted over to see what the fuss was about, tossing her glossy fur in the breeze like a real film star, Sam made sure to sound a bit like a pirate being happy. “Woo-hoo! Avast! Shiver me timbers! Hooray, hooray, hooray!” 