The Wombles to the Rescue (3 page)

In the far distance he could see Cousin Botany standing as still as a statue while he stared straight at the ground. In the middle distance Bungo and Tomsk were having a nose to nose argument which Wellington was apparently trying to stop, while nearer at hand still there was an even more familiar sight – Orinoco fast asleep in a bed of bracken. But then, as if he were aware of being looked at, Orinoco stirred, rubbed his paws in his eyes, swung his fat little body out of the bracken and shuffled over to Tobermory.

‘Isn't it about mealtime?' asked Orinoco. ‘I'm ever so hungry. Moving makes you hungry, you know.'

‘Everything makes you hungry,' said Tobermory, ‘and yes it is. Off you go, young Womble.' And Tobermory put his bowler hat back on his head, shook his head, blew the whistle he kept in his apron pocket to tell all the other Wombles that it was mealtime, and then said under his breath, ‘Here we go again. I can always tell. When my fur prickles in a certain way, that's an
OMEN
. There's Bulgaria off travelling, the burrow in a shocking state, and this energy whatsits name. In fact, here we go
AGAIN
!'

He was quite right.

.

Chapter 3

Wellington Vanishes

As Great Uncle Bulgaria always enjoyed making speeches, Tobermory was rather worried that the old Womble might go on and on and
ON
talking. However, luckily for everyone (except perhaps Great Uncle Bulgaria), all the Wombles were so tired that after the first few words they began nodding off, their heads getting heavier and heavier until their chins came to rest on their chests. As the Wombles are the politest creatures in the world they did try to keep awake, but it was no good and first one and then another started to snore until the noise rose and fell like the sound of a distant sea.

‘. . . and furthermore in these difficult times,' went on Great Uncle Bulgaria, turning over a page in his notes and then there was a simply tremendous . . . ‘
zzzzzzzzzZZZZZ
' . . . right in the front row as Orinoco was having a nice noisy forty winks there, and Great Uncle Bulgaria looked up from his notes and noticed for the first time that nearly everyone was fast asleep.

‘
Tsk, tsk, tsk
,' he said very loudly and then even more loudly he went on, ‘Wimbledon Wombles, I am going to America to see Cousin Yellowstone.'

‘Why?' asked Bungo, waking up with a jerk.

‘Because of all the difficulties I've been talking about. The world shortages of this and that,' snapped Great Uncle Bulgaria. ‘If you'd been listening with half an ear you would have realised
THAT
.'

‘Yes, yes, indeed,' said Madame Cholet, who had just come in from the kitchen. ‘I'm sure Bungo did realise that. Tell me, Bulgaria, who is the lucky Womble you are taking with you to the United States?'

Great Uncle Bulgaria shuffled his notes together, cleared his throat and wished very much indeed that Madame Cholet hadn't asked that particular question at this particular moment. However, as all the Wombles had now woken up and, although they were rubbing their paws across their eyes, were looking fairly bright and interested, he had to reply. He looked over the top of his spectacles and then got out his second pair and put them on as well. He looked through both pairs and nearly every Womble felt his fur prickle in an uneasy sort of way.

‘I'm taking with me a very bossy sort of young Womble,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, ‘a very bossy sort of young Womble, who is always asking far too many questions and thinking he knows far too many answers. But he doesn't. I think that working in the United States will do him a great deal of good. It'll stop him getting too big for his back paws for a start. And his name is . . .'

Great Uncle Bulgaria paused dramatically at this point, but unfortunately for him all the Wombles had now guessed who this helper was to be and they were all, even the very small Wombles from the Womblegarten, looking directly at Bungo, who was starting to shuffle around in his seat.

‘I do believe it's young Mungo,' said Cousin Botany in his slow voice.

‘No, no, no, Bungo,' snapped Great Uncle Bulgaria. ‘Bungo, Bungo,
BUNGO
.'

Cousin Botany smiled in a vague sort of way, put a paw against his panama hat and shuffled out. Everybody else pushed and elbowed each other and giggled, except for the older Wombles and even they had to hide a smile or two. Bungo looked very hard at the ground and didn't know what to feel because, although he was starting to be very excited at the idea of going to America, he was also feeling a bit put down by Great Uncle Bulgaria's description of his character (which everybody else seemed to have recognised instantly!) and by being called Mungo.

It was left to Great Uncle Bulgaria to make everything seem all right again and, after just a very small hesitation, he did exactly that by saying briskly, ‘Well, well, we're all rather overtired. Welcome back to our old burrow. I'm glad we're all together again, and I'm quite sure there are happy times ahead. Now off with the lot of you, quick sharp and get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a very busy day for all of us!'

It wasn't only tomorrow that was busy. It was all the days that followed, for the Wombles soon discovered that their burrow was in a really shocking state. Doors wouldn't shut properly, there were leaks in the water pipes – one actually started going
drip-drip-drip
right beside Orinoco's bunk and he woke up with an awful start. Madame Cholet said it was the first time that she had seen Orinoco's face looking so clean for ages, which made everybody else laugh, but Orinoco didn't think it was at all funny and he was quite sharp and snappy for a bit.

‘It's all work, work,
WORK
,' he grumbled. ‘I shouldn't be at all surprised if I don't get a right case of falling fur from doing too much. It was bad enough getting that burrow under Hyde Park sorted out, but this is . . .'

‘Oh, do shut up,' growled Tomsk, who had been put in charge of checking the luggage for Great Uncle Bulgaria and Bungo's trip to America. ‘I've counted and counted bedsocks and shawls and the gifts we're sending all the Yellowstone Wombles, but the numbers keep on coming out different. Oh drat!'

‘Shut up yourself,' said Orinoco and gave Tomsk a shove, which was a very bad mistake as Tomsk, of course, shoved right back and about twice as hard. The next moment the pair of them were rolling over and over with fur flying in all directions.

‘S
TOP THAT
!' ordered Tobermory, who had come into the dormitory at this most opportune moment, and he picked up a jug of water and emptied it over the pair of them. The two young Wombles gasped and shook themselves and shuffled their feet and then hurried back to work. Luckily there's nothing like a good fight between friends to make things seem better, so Orinoco and Tomsk were all right for a bit, but Tobermory went ‘
Tsk, tsk, tsk
' under his breath and made yet another note in his little book.

.

.

‘Fighting. Stop it! How?'

As Great Uncle Bulgaria had plenty of things on his mind already, Tobermory didn't bother him about this latest development – which was breaking out all over the burrow, as there always seemed to be a young Womble somewhere shoving or arguing or actually fighting another young Womble – but he did talk to Madame Cholet and Miss Adelaide who were having a nice, cosy chat round the kitchen table as they worked.

‘
Tsk, tsk, tsk
,' said Miss Adelaide, carefully threading a needle.

‘
Alors!
' exclaimed Madame Cholet, packing just one more toadstool truffle chocolate into a carton.

‘It's all very well for you,' said Tobermory, ‘
you're
not left in charge while Bulgaria's off on his holiday and . . .'

‘Hardly a holiday, Tobermory,' said Miss Adelaide in exactly the tone of voice which had always made every Womble, whatever his age, suddenly feel rather young and silly. ‘As I understand it, this is a most important Womble conference about worldwide shortages of this and that. Which reminds me, Tobermory, I'm running out of chalk for the blackboard, and material from which to make tidy-bags and ink. Furthermore we haven't much paper. I just thought I'd remind you!'

Tobermory got out his notebook yet again and wrote in it. Miss Adelaide and Madame Cholet exchanged glances and then Madame Cholet said gently, ‘I have packed up all the truffles for the American Wombles and enough is enough. So now I make the hot drink. Perhaps a delicious bracken nightcap for you, Tobermory?'

‘Yes, please,' said Tobermory. ‘I really need something nice and soothing. I really do. I don't know how we're going to manage without Bulgaria . . .'

Everybody felt rather sad and cross and prickly when the day finally arrived on which Great Uncle Bulgaria and Bungo (who, for him, had got strangely quiet recently) were due to leave the burrow. All the Wombles lined up outside the front door and when Tobermory, looking very smart and most unlike himself in his chauffeur's cap, drove up in the Silver Womble, there was hardly a sound. Great Uncle Bulgaria cleared his throat and looked over and through his spectacles several times and then said in a very stern voice, ‘Now then, young Wombles, stop looking so sorry for yourselves. There's nothing to worry about as long as we all pull together. It's up to us Wombles to come to the rescue yet again, and I know we'll do it. How Human Beings would manage without us to help them I shall never understand, not if I live to be
THREE
hundred.

‘Well, well, off we go then. Best of luck to you all and remember . . .' and Great Uncle Bulgaria raised one white paw, ‘you're to do
EXACTLY
as Tobermory tells you, or I shall want to know the reason why! Ho-hum!'

For some strange reason these strict words made everybody feel much better and less sad, and the anxious looks gave way to smiles and some of the very small Wombles from the Womblegarten began to wave the flags which they had made for this very occasion.

Great Uncle Bulgaria smiled too and Bungo was almost going round in circles, he was being so bossy and self-important. And then Tobermory wound up the Silver Womble and it moved off very smoothly making just the faintest
tick-tock-tick-tock
sound as it sped across the Common, on to the road and vanished from sight.

‘Elevenses,' said Madame Cholet, because when the car
did
disappear the smiling and waving stopped a bit suddenly.

‘But it's only ten o'clock, you know,' said Wellington, coming out of a dream and looking at his enormous wristwatch.

‘Haven't you ever heard of “tenses”,' muttered Orinoco. ‘They're
FAR
better than elevenses because they come an hour earlier and . . .'

‘I know,' said Wellington, nodding, ‘you're
STARVING
!'

‘Mmmm,' agreed Orinoco, ‘that's very clever of you. How did you guess? I say, I'm going to miss old Bungo a bit, aren't you? He may be a bossy sort of Womble, but he's all right really.'

But Wellington had already ambled away, with his paws clasped behind his back and his nose pointing towards the ground. He looked rather like Botany so that Tomsk, who didn't often notice that kind of thing, said in his rumbling voice, ‘I'll tell you what – Wellington'll get as quiet and not-talking as Cousin Botany if he doesn't watch out. He's getting a bit like that already.'

‘Don't suggest it,' said Orinoco with a shudder. ‘I'll tell
you
what! Cousin Botany
missed his supper last night!
'

‘He didn't!'

‘He jolly well did! That's a very, very,
VERY
strange thing for a Womble to do. Move up, Tomsk, we're losing our place in the “tenses” queue.'

Alderney, who was in charge of the snack trolley, saw Orinoco's anxious face and waved and smiled and then began to push the trolley down the line of waiting, chattering Wombles so quickly that some of the chilled dandelion juice went flying in all directions.

A few drops reached Wellington, and, while he licked them off the back of his paw, he recalled what Great Uncle Bulgaria had said only twenty minutes ago.