Jungle Tangle Read online

  ‘Hay over here,’ said his friendly wife, Talky. She steered Hepzibah and a wandering sheep to a bale on the floor.

  ‘Seeds over here,’ said their pale son, Chalky. He guided Mackenzie and a random chicken towards a bucket in the corner.

  Abbie ate till she ached. There were sausage rolls, profiteroles, schnitzels and pretzels. There were pizza slices, lemon ices, cream cakes and milk shakes, ginger ales and cocktails, fizzes and whizzes …

  Whizzes? Those were in Abbie’s stomach as she decided against a fourth chocolate meringue. ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ she whispered.

  ‘Wait till after the speeches,’ suggested Perdita helpfully.

  Mr Dabbings stood on a sofa. ‘Ladies and gents; blokes and blokinas; kith, kin and kids. I’d just like to say a few words about my new wife.’

  Forty minutes later he was still banging on about the richest jewel in the nose-stud of life, the brightest berry in the bramble of being …

  ‘Can’t someone shut ’im up?’ said Grandma in what was meant to be a whisper but came out a shout.

  Mr Dabbings stopped. There was an awkward silence.

  Corky saved the day. ‘And now,’ she cried, jumping up, ‘let the barn dance begin!’ Everyone rushed to the barn. And everyone danced – which was no mean feat for those with no mean feet.

  Because there were Fernando and Carmen, kitted out in their finest gear. Fernando wore a conquistador helmet that Ollie had made from a silver Chinese takeaway box. Carmen wore an Elizabethan ruff that Dad had made from loo paper. Wrapped round her stand, it hid her disaster of a neck. Abbie picked up Fernando and grabbed Perdita by the hand. They teamed up with Snorty and Henry, who couldn’t take their eyes off the shrunken head.

  Charlie Chumb played a note on his fiddle. And the Dashing White Sergeant began.

  ‘Circle to the left, circle to the right – Great to see you here tonight,’ sang a familiar voice.

  ‘Gav!’ shouted Abbie, dropping Fernando in surprise. The head bounced on the floor.

  Gav the Nav laughed. ‘Watch your step – I mean your head –

  Gav has risen from the dead.

  Matt recharged my battery

  In time for this fine jamboree.’

  He capered off as Abbie scooped a furious Fernando off the ground.

  You wouldn’t believe who was dancing with whom.

  There was Corky with Sergeant Bolt. He was shouting off-the-record police gossip in her ear. ‘Don’t tell a soul,’ he warned, after describing the Superintendent’s earwax sculptures in a voice that shook the barn.

  There was Coriander with Marcus and Greg. The boys were gaping as she recalled the time she put highlights in a hyena’s hair to cheer him up after his wife ran off with a jackal.

  There was terrified Matt, being whirled, twirled and tremendously hurled by Terrifica Batts and Jeremy Boing.

  There was the Reverend Bulbs welcoming Ursula into his circle. She looked so thrilled to be asked, her cheeks shone almost as brightly as his.

  There was Mrs Strodboil swinging Carmen. They were having a blast complaining about their husbands.

  And there – ohmygoodness, fetch the camera – was Dr Strodboil whizzing with Winnie. Or rather, being whizzed. ‘I’m a Mazzively Zuggzezzful Dennis, ya know,’ he was shouting. She looked at him adoringly. Then she gave him the biggest, sloppiest, on-the-lippest kiss in the history of dental surgery.

  And there were Mr Dabbings and Wendy, spinning round in wedding clothes and shiny green wellies. They only had eyes for each other.

  After three rounds of Dashing White Sergeant, two Eightsome Reels and a Flying Scotsman, in which Mackenzie flapped round the barn, Gav called for quiet.

  ‘Drop your partners, take a break

  Time to cut the wedding cake.’

  There was a tense moment when Winnie actually did drop her partner. Luckily he was too dizzy to care.

  Everyone stood at the barn entrance.

  ‘Oooh,’ they gasped as Mum and Mrs Strodboil brought in the cake.

  ‘Aaah,’ they sighed as the newlyweds lifted the knife.

  ‘Ouch,’ they squealed as an iced pupil was sliced in two.

  When cake had been handed round, the guests wandered outside. Sergeant Bolt linked arms with Corky. He was telling her how he’d once gone to the cinema wearing a blue shirt and watched a film in which – ‘Can you believe it? Brad Pitt wore one too!’ Mrs Strodboil came out with Fernando on one shoulder and Carmen on the other. Winnie gave Dr Strodboil a piggy back. Mum and Dad held hands. Matt and Coriander held plaits. Perdita held Gav. Ursula followed the Reverend Bulbs, whose face made an impressive torch. And Snorty shared a joke with the gate-crashing pig.

  Last came the newlyweds. Marcus, Terrifica and Henry disappeared round the corner and returned with the class’s present.

  ‘Ohh,’ sighed Wendy, stroking the silver foil.

  ‘Oh ho!’ cried her husband, unwrapping it.

  He lifted his bride into the gleaming wheelbarrow. Amid whoops and cheers, the happy couple squeaked off into the night.

  Abbie peered through the darkness. A figure was sitting on the edge of a water trough. A curly wig jigged on its head.

  ‘What’s up, Grandma?’ Abbie perched next to her and took a bite of cake.

  ‘Oh, just thinkin’.’

  Abbie followed her gaze upward. The sky was dazzling. You’d think the stars had been specially polished. ‘What about?’

  ‘Our new neighbour.’

  Abbie stopped chewing. In the excitement of the wedding she’d forgotten about Klench. ‘He’s got so much to thank you for, Grandma. Without you he’d be stuck in some jail in – in wherever he comes from – with no one but his mum to boss him around.’

  Grandma patted Abbie’s knee. ‘And without you, young Marcus would be stuck in ’is bedroom with no one but ’is dad to boss ’im around. We’re quite a team, you and me.’

  Abbie looked at the muddy-trousered, barmy-haired old boot and couldn’t think of higher praise. She squeezed Grandma’s hand. ‘Be careful, won’t you? Do you really think you can help him change?’

  Grandma shrugged. ‘’Oo knows? But I’ve got to try. For me own peace of mind.’

  And you’d better succeed, thought Abbie, her cake suddenly tasting of cardboard. Because if not, who knew what eefil-doinks might escape once more onto the streets of Bradleigh?

  Other Books by Author

  Have you read the first book in the series?

  When Squashy Grandma’s teeth get stuck behind the radiator, Abbie meets the Very Odd Job Man, Matt Platt, and his daughter, Perdita. Drawn into a hair-raising hunt for Perdita’s missing mum, Coriander, Abbie is helped along the way by Fernando, the heartbroken shrunken head of a Spanish conquistador, and Chester, a helpful patch of chest hair.

  But waddling in the shadows is the white-suited, burger-shaped Hubris Klench. Abbie soon discovers that finding Coriander is one thing, but saving the world from Klench’s ‘eefil doinks’ quite another.

  www.mercierpress.ie/Dead_Hairy

  About the Author

  Debbie Thomas lives in Kildare. She worked as a reporter for the BBC and now works for a charity supporting people with leprosy and writes for various magazines. She runs a children’s book club and creative writing classes. Stella McDonald illustrates Dead Hairy. Stella is an award winning illustrator who previously worked on Really Rotten Rhymes and Do Teachers go to the Toilet?. You can read Debbie’s blog and find out more about Dead Hairy, here. Debbie Thomas.

  About the Publisher

  We hope you enjoyed this book.

  Since 1944, Mercier Press has published books that have been critically important to Irish life and culture. Books that dealt with subjects that informed readers about Irish scholars, Irish writers, Irish history and Ireland’s rich heritage.

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