Chew Bee or Not Chew Bee (3 page)

Willy crawled into the darkness under the stage for a much-needed spot of thinking. He lifted Skellington's empty honey pot and the dead bee out of his pocket and stared at them.

There was a connection in there somewhere if only he could find it. At least, he
thought
there
might
be a connection.

But Yorick was right, Skellington could hardly be the only person in the whole of London who had access to bees and honey.

Willy wasn't sure what to do next. ‘I'm useless as well as stupid,' he muttered to himself. ‘I should never have agreed to help
The Ghost. I've hit a dead end already, and now Yorick thinks I'm crazy.'

He sighed and rested his chin on his knees.

Above Willy's head, the Black Skulls were busy rehearsing. A few of the Utter Nutters had sneaked into the auditorium, and were cheering loudly whenever Olly said a line.

Olly and Minty had reached the part of the play where Olly's character avenged the death of the Underworld King. He had to shoot a Frenchman with an arrow. Dead Frenchmen were always popular with the audiences.

Minty was playing the part of the Frenchman. ‘That
is
the fake arrow, isn't it, Olly?' he said. ‘I wouldn't want you to get it mixed up with a real one.'

‘Be quiet, you oaf!' hissed Olly. ‘I'm in character!'

Olly hoisted the bow to his shoulder and aimed it at Minty's heart. ‘Prepare to suffer, o piteous Frenchie!' he boomed.
‘An Englishman's sting from which there is no balm!'

He released the bowstring and the fake arrow clattered against Minty's chest.

‘Ow!'
Minty yelped. ‘That blooming well did sting!'

Walden Kemp was sitting at the back of the theatre. ‘Those aren't the right words!' he shouted, looking up from his notes. ‘You're supposed to cry out,
“Mon Dieu!
I am, 'ow you say, killed!”'

‘But it shouldn't hurt like that!' wailed Minty. ‘This is just a rehearsal!'

Olly threw his bow to the stage floor with a clatter and flounced towards the dressing room. ‘I can't work in these conditions!' he wailed.

Willy lifted his head.
Sting!
Olly and Minty had both said the word
sting,
and it had given Willy an idea.

Skellington was due back any minute now.
Maybe Willy could add some trick words to the play, and then watch Skellington's reaction? If Skellington reacted in a certain way, perhaps it would show there was a connection between Skellington, the bee, and Uncle Aaron's death.

If Skellington didn't notice anything strange, then Willy would give up on The Ghost altogether, and go back to everyday life with the Skulls. It was worth a try.

Willy scooted out from underneath the stage. Keeping to the shadows, he slid across to Walden's desk at the side of the stage, and grabbed three sheets of writing parchment, some ink, and a quill. Walden would go nuts if he caught Willy stealing his expensive parchment, but Willy's plan wouldn't work without it.

Willy sat down at the desk, dipped the quill into the ink and began writing. In a few minutes he'd made some rough jottings.

He looked happily at what he'd written, then made two copies in his best handwriting—one for Olly and one for Minty. He folded the sheet with his rough jottings and stuffed it in his tunic pocket. Then he carefully rolled the copies in his fist and headed for the dressing room.

Olly was in a bad mood. He was inspecting a tiny nose-pimple in a full-length mirror. ‘What do you want, Waggledagger?' he said.

‘Oh nothing, really,' said Willy. ‘It was just that I was listening to the rehearsal and, well…'

‘Well what?' snapped Olly.

‘Those lines you say when you see the ghost——'

‘I know my lines! What about them?' interrupted Olly. ‘Aren't they good enough? What are you trying to tell me?'

‘It's just that they could be better. At least that's, er, what I heard some of the Utter Nutters saying. They were saying that they
sounded like lines that…well, that Minty might say.'

‘Minty?'
Olly's face turned pale and he staggered back into a chair.

‘Would you like to hear my suggestions?' said Willy.

‘I demand to hear them!' Olly was turning paler by the minute. ‘You might be a ghastly little oik, but you do have a way with words.'

Willy gave him the sheets he'd just written.

Olly unrolled the scrolls and read them quickly. ‘You really think these will help?' he said.

‘Absolutely,' said Willy, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. His plan was a very long shot indeed. Still, there was no point in letting Olly know that. ‘An actor of your star quality should have only the best!'

‘Yes,' said Olly, looking at himself in the mirror, ‘I should, shouldn't I?'

‘And don't forget to show Minty his new
lines, too,' said Willy. ‘We don't want him to sound like you!'

‘Don't worry,' said Olly. ‘I'll make sure he does as he's told!'

Willy headed back into the theatre.

‘Places, please!' Charlie Ginnell was calling from the souvenir stand, where he was pricing up the Olly dolls. ‘We've got a play to put on, people. Let's go!'

As the actors returned to the stage, Willy went to find Yorick.

Yorick looked up from his prop box. ‘Took a long time to find them nails, didn't you?' he said. He picked up one of the hoses from the fog machine and handed it to Willy. ‘Go an' run this around the back of the stage. We'll need it in a minute.'

Willy took the hose and began putting it in place. He kept one eye on the theatre door, keeping a lookout for Skellington. He didn't want to miss Skellington's reactions. But he
had to make sure Skellington didn't see him.

Five minutes later, the door to the theatre flew open and Skellington waddled to the front of the auditorium, followed by his two goons. Rosenbloom found him a chair, and Skellington sat down heavily.

‘Right,' said Walden, ‘let's start again from the moment the ghost appears. Yorick, is that fog thing of yours ready to go?'

Yorick's head appeared from behind the curtain. ‘Ready as she'll ever be, Wally.'

Yorick gave Willy the thumbs-up and Willy checked the hose. Yorick pushed down on a long lever attached to a bellows. White smoke blew through the hoses and began drifting around the stage. In no time at all the actors were up to their waists in fog. Using the smoke as cover, Willy dashed across the stage and clambered up the ladder behind the curtains. He settled on a shadowy top rung with an excellent view of Skellington's face.

‘Nice work, Yorick,' said Walden.

Yorick winked and disappeared back behind the curtain.

Minty, who played the ghost as well as the Frenchman, lumbered through the mist towards Olly, waving his arms in the air and moaning.

‘O hideous spirit leave me
be!'
wailed Olly, doing a very good impression of a terrified man. ‘What vision of
murder
is this? What
carbuncle
be here before me?'

Sir Anstruther Skellington sat bolt upright in his seat. He looked like he'd been slapped across the face with a wet fish.

That's weird, thought Willy. But perhaps it was just a coincidence.

‘Whoooooooo-ooooo,'
moaned Minty.
‘Be
afraid, Englishman, be afraid! No
stinging
words can stop this
ardent
creature. I seek bloody vengeance!'

Olly cringed.
‘Be
gone, spirit, be gone! Your
words are fit only for a
pig's ear.
You are not whole, but some sort of
soup,
most——'

‘STOP!' Sir Anstruther Skellington screeched. He leapt out of his chair and bustled furiously towards the stage. ‘Stop this widiculous nonsense wight now!' He arrived panting at the foot of the stage and waved his fist in Walden Kemp's face. ‘I see your game! I wealise your twickerwy!' he snarled. ‘Do you take me for a fool? Do you think I don't see what you're up to?'

Walden looked confused. ‘I-I don't understand, Sir Anstruther. I didn't write those lines. Olly must have put them in!'

‘Don't blame me!' wailed Olly. ‘Waggledagger told me to do it! But I don't see what was wrong with them!'

Skellington's eyes almost exploded. ‘Bees! Stinging! Pig's ear! Soup! You see? You see?'

There was a silence.

Something's upset Skellington, Willy thought. The last time I saw him, he said that Uncle
Aaron drowned in Pig's Ear soup. Now he's also blabbering about bees as if the two are connected. Maybe he does know more about Uncle Aaron's death than he's letting on.

‘See what, sire?' Walden asked Skellington.

Skellington looked around. ‘The words! They, they…'

‘They what?' said Walden.

‘Um, the words are, well they're…they're not good words!' Sir Anstruther Skellington had gone very red.

Willy noticed that the goon called Goldstein was staring blankly at the floor and scratching his nose. The other one, Rosenbloom, was looking at Skellington with interest.

‘Bees?' said Walden, clearly puzzled. ‘Stinging? I'm not sure I quite understand, sire. What, exactly, is wrong with such words?'

‘Wrong? Ah, well, that is, they…
I just don't like them!'
blustered Skellington. ‘They're not proper words for a play!'

Olly shrugged helplessly. ‘I don't see the problem, Sir Anstruther. These are just a few new lines that Willy suggested to give the play some extra zip. He's actually quite good at that sort of thing. We can take them out again if you prefer.'

‘Of course you'll take them out! They…' Skellington stopped suddenly in mid-sentence. ‘Wait a minute. Did you just say that they were written by Waggledagger? That mealymouthed welation of Ardent's?'

Willy was glad he was up the ladder, safely out of the way.

Walden nodded. ‘Yes, but I still don't s——'

‘Everything all right here, Sir Anstruther?' said Charlie, hurrying over from the souvenir stand.

‘No, evewything is not all wight!' yelped Skellington, as Rosenbloom and Goldstein noisily cracked their knuckles. ‘It all comes down to this, Mr Ginnell. Either you muzzle
Waggledagger, or your little pwoduction won't wun more than thwee minutes! You'll never work in this town again. And that's a pwomise.'

He turned on his little booted heels and, with Rosenbloom and Goldstein following like a pair of walking wardrobes, wobbled out of the theatre.

Willy breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad to see the back of that nasty little man and his goons. There was definitely something fishy about Skellington.

The Skulls had formed a worried knot on the stage.

Olly put one hand on his hip. ‘Well, we might as well pack up and head home. Good work, Yorick!'

‘Me!' gasped Yorick. ‘Wot 'ave I done?'

‘You brought Waggledagger to join the Skulls,' said Minimac, from his perch on top of a packing case in the wings.

‘Keep that doll quiet,' muttered Yorick to
Minty. ‘Before I rip 'is 'orrible little 'ead off and give meself a splinter.'

‘All right, Skulls,' said Charlie. ‘Let's all calm down a bit, eh? Anyone got any idea why Skellington went off the deep end at the mention of bees?'

Yorick coughed.

‘Yes, Yorick?' said Charlie.

‘Nuffink,' said Yorick. ‘Frog in me froat.' He looked around for Willy. He had to tell him to drop the whole crazy bee thing. The boy was clearly losing it.

‘Well,' said Charlie, ‘all I can think of is that maybe Skellington thinks bees are too exciting. He said he wants the play to be as dull as possible, so the audience doesn't have fun. I can't see the fuss myself, but let's just cut out the bees, yes?'

‘What about the Pig's Ear soup?' asked Walden. ‘He didn't like that either.'