Victoria station was one of the largest in London. It was a huge, ornate building, almost like a cathedral, but bustling with people and humming with noise. Most passengers were arriving into London rather than departing at this time of the morning, so the ticket queue wasn’t too long. After buying two adult and one child single tickets to Bognor Regis (sadly there weren’t any discounts for gorillas), they trundled on to the station concourse. This was where the arrivals and departures boards were. They scoured them, searching for the first train to Bognor Regis.

“Bognor Regis train! Platform eighteen!” exclaimed Eric, his eyesight much better than Sid’s. “Ten past six. That gives us five minutes!”

“It’s right at the other end of the station. No time to dilly-dally. Let’s go!” said Sid.

Making sure Gertrude’s veil was still hiding her face, Eric pushed her in the wheelchair along the concourse.

When they passed a bin, the boy reached in and took out a handful of different-coloured train tickets. Trailing behind the happy couple, he ripped them up into little pieces and threw them over the pair to complete the appearance that they were newly married.

“CONFETTI!” he cried.

“Clever boy!” remarked Sid.

The boy glowed with pride.

As they hurried towards platform eighteen, they passed some newspaper sellers standing at stalls, plying their trade.

To Eric and Sid’s horror (not Gertrude’s as gorillas can’t read*), they were shocked to see the morning’s newspaper headlines. They were all on display in posters on the front of the sellers’ stalls. As if that wasn’t enough, the men in cloth caps and brown overalls were calling out the headlines to drum up sales.

“How many times do I need to say that a gorilla is not a monkey – it is an ape!” hissed Eric as they passed the stalls.

“Shush!” shushed Sid. “Now is not the time!”

As was usual during wartime, there were plenty of policemen on duty at London railway stations looking for anything or, rather, anyone suspicious.

A Nazi spy perhaps?

An escaped prisoner of war?

A downed Luftwaffe bomber pilot trying to smuggle himself back to Germany?

So this weird wedding party aroused suspicion. They certainly made an unusual sight.

The way Sid’s tin legs clanked as he walked.

CLINK! CLANK! CLUNK!

The rusty old wheelchair carrying the bride, who was completely covered from head to toe in what looked like some old net curtains.

And, last but not least, a small boy dressed in what looked like a pair of lady’s bloomers. Either he was some kind of time-traveller, or had got dressed in the dark, or just liked wearing lady’s bloomers. Whichever it was, it made the policemen stop and stare.

“Just carry on walking!” hissed Sid. “Don’t look round!”

Eric felt as if there were a hundred pairs of eyes staring at him and he began to go as red as a bottle of tomato ketchup.

“Tickets for Bognor Regis, please!” barked the ticket inspector at the entrance to platform eighteen.

“Yes! Yes!” chirped Sid. His hands were shaking so much that he dropped the tickets on the ground.

“Silly me!”

When he bent down to pick them up, his head clonked with Gertrude’s.

“URGH!” she moaned from under her veil.

The ticket inspector was alarmed at the noise. “Is your wife all right under there?”

“Yes!” replied Sid. “She just has mixed feelings about the marriage.”

The inspector shook his head. “Sounds like it. Third class is the front four coaches!”

“Thank you kindly!”

Just as the trio were about to hurry off to board their steam train to the seaside, they felt a tap on their shoulders.

“Excuse me. May we have a word?”

Sid and Eric turned round. Two tall policemen, made even taller by their tall helmets, loomed behind them.

“Can we see your papers, please?” asked one.

Eric and Sid fumbled in their pockets for their IDENTITY CARDS. In wartime, these might need to be produced at any moment.

The policemen studied the cards, before handing them back.

“Well, thank you, we’ll be on our way!” said Sid.

“STOP!” ordered one of the policemen. “What about the lady’s?”

Sid and Eric looked at each other. How were they going to get out of this particular pickle?

Gertrude didn’t have an IDENTITY CARD. Gorillas didn’t have IDENTITY CARDS. That’s because they were gorillas.

TOOT! TOOT! went the engine, signalling that the train was ready to depart.

“I’m very sorry, officer, but we’re going to miss our train!” said Eric.

“That is not my concern. The safety of this great nation is at stake! I need to see the lady’s IDENTITY CARD. NOW! Hand it over, miss!”

Gertrude was not enjoying the hold-up. Her gloved hand reached up from under her dress and yanked on the policeman’s nose.

“OW!”

Sid slapped her hand away.

“Sorry. Just her little joke! And she’s a Mrs! We just got married,” corrected Sid.

“Congratulations are in order, then,” replied the policeman rubbing his nose. “But we need to see your papers, madam!”

“She doesn’t have any!” blurted out the boy.

“Why not?” pressed the policeman.

“She ate them!”

Sid shot Eric a look that said, “Why on earth did you just say that?”

Eric shot Sid a look back that said, “I don’t know.”

“Why would anyone eat their own IDENTITY PAPERS?” asked the incredulous policeman.

“If you were very hungry,” guessed the boy.

“And you enjoyed the taste of cardboard!” added Sid. “It’s quite nice with some brown sauce!”

“Let me have a look at her,” demanded the policeman, leaning down to Gertrude’s face.

“Oh no! Don’t lift her veil!” begged Eric.

“Why ever not?”

“She’s not got her make-up on!” replied Sid. “She hates people seeing her without her make-up!”

“Britain comes first! Madam, would you please be kind enough to lift your veil?”

Being a gorilla, and not speaking English, Gertrude did nothing of the sort.

TOOT! TOOT! went the train again.

“I told you she wouldn’t,” said Sid.

The policeman was having no more of this nonsense. He leaned down and lifted up the veil himself. Needless to say, he was shocked by what he saw. This big, hairy ape smiling back at him, offering a handful of cake.

“HURGH?” she asked.

“ARGH!” screamed the policeman, taking a step back to hide behind the other. But he was scared too, and there began a game of who could hide behind who.

TOOT! TOOT!

That was the final whistle! The train began leaving the station!

“I am very sorry, officer, but we have to go!” shouted Sid over the noise of the engine.

The three then began chasing after the train.

“COME BACK HERE!” shouted the policeman.

“STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!

HALT THAT TRAIN!”

* Which is a great shame because I would very much like gorillas to buy my books.