CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN

For several silent seconds, everyone just froze, staring at the goose, wondering what the hell was meant to happen now.

“Shit,” said Bambi.

“Shit,” said Harry.

Pierre nursed his bruised cheek. “Shit.”

Noah stared, unblinking, at the goose, that was now finishing off Pierre’s baguette on the ground.

“Noah, it’s fine,” Harry said. “Don’t lose your shit. We’ll do something.”

Noah kept focused on the goose. “Uh-huh. Like what? What are we going to do?”

“Well…” Harry floundered. “We’ll … think of something.”

“OK, OK, there’s no plan, so I’m totally going to lose my shit,” Noah babbled.

“Noah, no! Do not lose your shit!” Harry insisted.

“GAAHH!” Noah squealed.

The goose honked and padded a few steps away, apparently upset by Noah’s outburst.

“Shush!” Bambi said. “Just stay calm. Stay chilled. We need to keep it here.” Bambi grabbed the rest of her sandwich from the bench, tore a bit off and threw it to the goose, who stepped back towards them and pecked up the food. “There you go, gal! Tasty, huh?”

“OK, so once we’ve used up all the food, what then? You think the goose will just stick around because it likes us?”

“We kill the goose?” Pierre suggested.

Noah gritted his teeth. “Pierre,” he hissed. “You cannot simply kill a goose in a royal park!”

“It’s illegal anyway,” Bambi said, throwing another chunk of bread at the goose. “There’s that ancient law, isn’t there? They’re all legally the property of the Queen. Killing one is actually treason.”

“That’s swans,” Noah muttered.

“So geese are fair game?” Bambi said.

“We’re not going to kill the goose,” Noah said.

“I’m out of sandwich,” Bambi said, throwing the last piece down.

“Harry? What you got?” Noah said.

“Red velvet cupcake.”

“Sacrifice it.”

Harry nodded and got the cupcake out of its bag, throwing some icing down for the goose.

Bambi cleared her throat. “Can I just say, we need to be out flyering in Soho in about two hours, so…”

“Can I just say,” Noah snapped, “there’s currently twenty thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds in that goose!”

The goose honked and padded away again.

“Stop shouting!” Bambi hissed. “Every time you raise your voice, you scare it!”

“Throw more cake!” Noah demanded.

Harry threw it down, but the goose looked away and started waddling off down the path.

“Damn it!” Noah said.

Noah stood and crept up behind it. “Come on!” he hissed, beckoning to the others.

The goose continued winding its way along the path, with Noah bringing up the rear, Harry out in front, and Pierre and Bambi flanking it at either side, all trying to act TOTALLY NATURAL and not like they were trying to GET THE GOOSE or anything like that, just in case any of the lunchtime crowds now entering the park were wondering.

“This is your fault, Pierre!” Noah muttered.

“I did not ask for it to attack my face!” Pierre snapped back.

“Shut up!” Bambi hissed. “If we can just get it to stay still…”

“Yes? What?” Noah demanded.

Bambi glanced back at him. “One of us can grab it.”

“I go nowhere near it,” Pierre said, still rubbing his cheek. “I hate that fucking goose.”

The goose took a few hops on to the grass bank by the side of the lake and sped up its pace, the others breaking into a fast walk to keep up.

“I need to take these heels off!” Bambi said, hopping along as she removed each shoe, watched by a couple of OAPs who were sitting on a nearby bench, looking mildly concerned at proceedings. Bambi slowed down and skipped over to them with a flyer. “Fancy a show tonight?”

Noah glanced back. “Bambi!”

“Coming, hun!” she said, cantering back up to the group.

“OK,” Noah puffed, “So, suppose one of us does grab it … what then?”

“We have foie gras,” Pierre said.

“Call the RSPCA, or the police,” Bambi suggested. “They probably deal with this sort of thing all the time—”

Noah snorted.

“…and even if they don’t, it’s a simple and honest story. We didn’t do anything wrong, the goose just ate your stuff!”

“The goose has diamonds in it – questions will be asked, it looks dodgy!” Noah said, sucking on his asthma pump as the pursuit continued. “And with Gran back home talking about them being stolen, it’ll all come crashing down on my dad, and as much as I –” he clenched his jaw, trying not to scream “– hate his goddam guts, I can’t see him sent to prison!”

“Then we kill the goose!” Pierre said.

“SHUT UP!”

HONK! The goose flapped its wings and leapt into the boating lake.

Everyone came to a halt, staring at the goose as it paddled around in the water.

“Oh no,” Harry muttered. “It’s in the lake!”

“No shit!” Pierre said.

Bambi grabbed Noah roughly by his upper arm and pointed at the small jetty ahead. “We need to commandeer a vessel, hun!”

“Or just pay to hire one?” Noah said. “Harry and Pierre – stay on the bank and keep eyes on the goose. We’ll get in the water and try to encourage it back over to you.”

“If you have a chance, grab it quickly, wrap your hands around its wings and hold it close to your body,” Bambi said.

“Then strangle it,” Pierre added. “What? I hate that goose.”

“If you harm that goose,” Noah shouted back as he and Bambi ran towards the jetty, “then I will harm you! Be. Warned!”

Pierre shook his head, flopping down on the bank next to the lake. “You English are totally crazy.”

A beefy man with tattoos, and a scar from the side of his mouth to his ear, eyed Noah and Bambi as they hurried up to the jetty.

“Please, sir,” Noah began. “How much for a pedalo?”

“Fifteen pounds for half an hour,” the man sniffed, holding his hand out. “Cash or card.”

Noah stared at him. “Fifteen? Fifteen?” Had the man misheard? He’d said “pedalo”, not “luxury yacht”!

Bambi put a manicured hand on the man’s arm. “How about I trade you a pedalo for a ticket to my show, hun? You look like a good-time boy.”

Noah took a sharp intake of breath. Did Bambi actually want to be the victim of a drag-phobic attack? He glanced over to the bank of the lake where Harry was standing, keeping his eyes fixed on the goose, then back at the man, who was staring at Bambi’s chest.

“Yeah, OK, darlin’, you can take this one out,” the man said, taking a flyer from her and pointing to a yellow pedalo that was parked up on the launch ramp.

“You’re an angel!” Bambi said, blowing him a kiss.

“Yeah, yeah,” the man muttered, holding his hand out so Bambi could steady herself as she climbed in. He turned to Noah. “In you get, then, mate.”

“How does it work?” Noah asked as he struggled into his damp seat.

“Pedal with the pedals and steer with the lever,” the man said, giving them a gigantic push as they swept into the boating lake. “Enjoy the ride, girls!” he shouted.

“Don’t we need life jackets?” Noah wailed as they shot out into the lake.

But the man appeared to have gone.

“Pedal, then!” Bambi said. “You gotta pump those little legs, Noah!”

“I’m trying! I’ve got to steer as well,” Noah said, pulling the lever and putting them on a direct course to collide with a swan.

“Pull it right!” Bambi shouted.

“It won’t go!”

“Damn it, come here!” Bambi grabbed the lever and pulled them back over in the direction of the bank where Harry was now making big pointing gestures towards the goose. “Faster!”

“Bambi, just to … huh … remind you –” Noah tried to gulp in a big lungful of precious air “– I’m (a) not yet fully grown and (b) not very good at PE—” He gasped again. “And (c) suffer from mild asthma and am prone to … huh…” Noah wheezed and gasped. “…bronchial infections, made worse by … cold … weather … and…”

“Stop talking, then!”

“Let me steer a bit,” Noah said. “I can do it now.”

“Fine. Steer. They’re your diamonds, what do I care.”

Noah took control of the lever, as they lurched too far right and rammed straight into the concrete side of the lake – SLAM! They both lurched forward in their seats.

“Well done.” Bambi smiled at him.

“It’s over here!” Harry shouted from the bank.

“I know!” Noah said.

“WHAT?!” Harry shouted back.

“I said, I … gah!” Noah tried to stand up so Harry could see him, the pedalo lurching dangerously left and right as he did so.

“SIT!” Bambi said, pulling him back down, as the pedalo rocked around. “Bloody idiot.”

“WHAT’S HAPPENING?” Harry shouted.

“WE’VE RUN AGROUND!” Noah shouted.

Bambi sighed. “We haven’t run aground.”

“LIKE WHEN THE TITANIC HIT THE ICEBERG!” Noah shouted.

Bambi shook her head. “There’s not one friggin’ parallel to that situation.” She looked at Noah, her eye twitching slightly. “Can you please just peddle backwards so I can steer us back round the right way? If that’s OK with you, Noah?”

“WE’RE PEDALLING BACKWARDS NOW!” Noah called across to Harry.

A couple of guys wolf-whistled at Bambi, filming the scene on their phones.

“AHOY, BOYS!” Bambi called out. “Hoist my jolly roger and swab my poop deck, this boat is full of seamen and we’re coming for you! You fellows fancy a show tonight?”

Noah gritted his teeth and pedalled furiously. He didn’t know what he must have done in a past life to deserve being stuck in a pedalo with reckless drag queen, but it must have been pretty bad.

“Slow up!” Harry shouted across to them from the bank, pointing at the goose. “It’s that one – just ahead!”

Bambi steered the pedalo gently behind the goose, giving it the tiniest nudge up the backside, so it flapped, honked and started paddling towards the bank to get away.

Noah stopped pedalling, using the break to flex his cold and wet feet a bit. There was nothing worse than a wet sock. And a wet shoe. And an increasingly damp bottom, and…

Noah glanced down at the bottom of the pedalo and whimpered. “Water!” he babbled.

“Just another few metres!” Bambi smiled. “Working like a dream!”

“Water!”

“C’mon, goosey!”

“WATER! WATER! We’re SINKING!” Noah screamed.

Bambi looked down, eyes wide as she took in the scene that Noah was looking at. The bottom of the pedalo was swimming in a good four inches of water.

Noah threw himself at Bambi, shaking. “I can’t SWIM!”

“That bastard on the jetty gave us a dud boat!” Bambi hissed. My shoes!”

“I never learned! If I don’t have armbands, I’ll sink!”

“Noah, it’s fine, we’re metres from the bank, just pedal some more and—”

“HEEELLPPPP!”

HOOOONK! HONNK! The goose flapped about, spread its wings and launched itself out of the water, hopping up on to the bank, and starting to peck at some crumbs on the grass.

Pierre was right behind it with a big stick.

“Don’t you dare!” Noah shouted over to him. “Just grab it!”

“You grab it!” Pierre said.

“I CAN’T, I’M SINKING!”

“Pedal towards me,” Harry said, squatting down on the edge of the bank and reaching an arm out. “I’ll pull you in.”

“I pull you, Noah, if you like?” Pierre shouted from where he was standing near the goose.

“Right! That’s it!” Harry squealed, running over to Pierre and launching himself at him, so Pierre toppled backwards on to the grass, Harry on top of him. “Stop it! Stop saying suggestive things about Noah! ARGHHH! You’re driving me CRAZY!” Harry straddled Pierre, pinning Pierre’s shoulders down with his knees.

“Oh my God!” Pierre said. “All I do is repeat the same words you are saying, you are the CRAZY one!”

“You know what you’re doing!” Harry insisted, pressing his finger on the end of Pierre’s nose to make his point, which was about as much aggression as Noah had ever seen from Harry.

Noah never imagined he would be in a position where two boys were fighting over him, but he was scarcely able to enjoy the moment, what with his imminent watery demise and all. Bambi pedalled furiously, the boat shifting another metre or so, enabling a quivering Noah to leap out of his seat and splash over the top of the pedalo, leaping to the shore. “Women and children first, Noah!” Bambi said, hoisting herself out of the wildly rocking boat.

“I am a child!” Noah hissed back, pulling Harry off Pierre as he scrambled up the grass bank. “Boys, I don’t know what I’ve done to cause all this sparring, but you must put your differences aside for now and sort all this out later.”

Harry brushed himself down and Pierre scrambled to his feet, shaking his head in disbelief. They all turned to look at the goose, which looked straight back at them, honked, and then started running in the opposite direction, flapping its wings … and then taking off.

“After it!” Noah shouted.

Noah charged ahead, following the goose’s low flight path as it glided back along the path they’d just run down and towards where the van was parked on the Outer Circle.

It flapped down on to some grass near the exit gate, as the four caught up with it and hovered a few metres away. “Right then,” Bambi gasped, removing the pashmina from her shoulders. “I guess it’s now or never.”

Bambi crept up behind the goose, which was busy scratching around in the grass. And then, holding the pashmina aloft, and in one swift movement, she threw the pashmina over the goose’s body, and wrapped her hands tightly around its covered wings, so just its head and neck were poking out.

HONK! HONK! HOOONK!

There was a brief struggle, as Bambi wrestled with the goose, rolling over on the ground…

A young couple passed by, looking unsure as to whether this was OK, and possibly part of some site-specific theatre experience, or actually something they should report to the authorities.

“Drag queen goose wrestling,” Noah told them. “It’s a thing now. In London.”

“Cool.” The young guy nodded.

“Love London!” his girlfriend giggled as they walked off.

Bambi stood up, holding the goose firmly under her arm, which just honked forlornly, the game clearly up. “I’m going to stuff it in the van!” Bambi said. “It’ll shit at some point, and then you’ll get your diamonds back, Noah. We’ll stop off at Pets at Home for some hay and seed, make the damn thing comfortable, but after that, we really have to check into the hotel, then get to Soho and flyer. Job done, boys, now get back in the van – we’ve got work to do.”

Noah let out a huge breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Thank God. OK, he didn’t have the diamonds back yet, but when nature had taken its course, he would. And if that meant sifting through bird poop for the next twelve hours, then so be it. It was the least he could do, for Gran.

He glanced quickly around him, and froze.

There she was.

The woman.

His mouth went dry.

The woman from the car. The woman who took the photos. Who asked him the time.

There she was. In Regent’s Park. On a bench. Looking at her phone.