The Bolds Go Green Read online

  The Bold family live at 41 Fairfield Road, Teddington. Also resident is an elderly hyena called Uncle Tony, who they rescued in an earlier book from a nearby safari park, along with his companion, Miranda, who is a cute little marmoset monkey. Tony takes Miranda out and about in her doll’s pram for a walk most days.

  Tony is very friendly with the neighbour at Number 39, Mr Nigel McNumpty (who happens to be a grizzly bear – hence his interest in honey). They often go for ice cream together and enjoy a nice game of dominoes afterwards.

  The Bolds are a happy family, who laugh almost all the time – because they are hyenas. They also rub their bottoms on gateposts and enjoy scavenging in the local bins, but I won’t dwell on that here. More importantly they like to help other animals to live as humans too. They have been very successful at this, as you’ll know if you’ve read the previous books. (If you haven’t, and you’re a castaway in the middle of an ocean somewhere, I hope you get rescued soon, so you can have a haircut and eat sweets and read all the other Bolds books.) There are too many animal ‘students’ helped by the Bolds to list here, but just take it from me. Crocodiles, racehorses, a poodle, an otter, a sheep and many, many others, have all been successfully tutored in humans’ funny ways at Number 41 Fairfield Road and then sent off to live new, exciting lives disguised as humans.

  Which brings us neatly back to the story in hand. The postcard featuring the Pyramids of Giza: it had come from someone the Bolds know and love... someone out in the world, living their dream thanks to the Bolds.

  Let’s get on, for goodness’ sake! There’s nothing worse than trying to read a nice story and the author keeps droning on and on about some old nonsense.

  ‘Who do you think sent us the postcard then?’ repeated Mrs Bold, still holding it up. ‘Who do we know, who now lives in Egypt?’

  ‘Sheila the crocodile!’ said Bobby.

  ‘No, not Sheila. Sheila lives wild, swimming up and down the Nile,’ his mother reminded him. ‘She could hardly climb out the river and go to a newsagent’s to buy a postcard and a stamp, then borrow a pen from somewhere and pop it in the post, could she?’

  ‘Stupid!’ said Betty.

  ‘Stupid, yourself!’ said Bobby crossly. ‘Who is it from then, if you’re so clever?’

  There was a pensive silence.

  ‘Can we have a clue, please?’ asked Minnie.

  ‘OK,’ said Mrs Bold. She held out her arms like she was onstage, picked up a mini Swiss roll and held it to her mouth as if it were a microphone and wailed: ‘Je ne regrette rien!’

  Bobby and Betty both gave a rather hyena-ish whoop of excitement while Minnie clapped her hands with delight.

  ‘Fifi!’ they all cried together.

  ‘Fifi the French poodle!’ exclaimed Betty.

  ‘The very same,’ said her mother.

  ‘How is she?’ asked Bobby.

  ‘What does she say?’ enquired Minnie.

  Fifi, you may or may not know, came to stay with the Bolds a while back. With their help – not to mention her own natural talent – she made the change from howling hound to international singing sensation. She was now living the dream, singing songs in the cabaret lounge onboard a luxury cruise ship in Egypt.

  ‘Well, children,’ laughed Mrs Bold. ‘Fifi’s postcard is very exciting and rather mysterious at the same time. I’ll read it to you, shall I?’

  ‘Yes, please!’

  Mrs Bold cleared her throat.

  Bonjour ma famille!

  C’est moi, Fifi Lampadaire, writing to you from my cruise ship. We have docked here for a day so the tourists can visit the Giza Pyramids. I have so much news. I am singing as wonderfully as ever and receiving beaucoup d’attention from everyone, in particular the adorable Samir... he is très romantique! I will tell you all about him when I see you. Yes, I am coming home to visit you all! A star returns to her humble roots!

  ‘Fifi is coming back!’ cried Betty and all three children began to jump up and down with excitement.

  ‘Hurrah!’ said Bobby. ‘Can’t wait to see her.’

  ‘She has a boyfriend too! When does she get here?’ asked Minnie.

  ‘Well, let me finish reading and you’ll see,’ said Mrs Bold reasonably. She continued:

  You are not to worry, but... I have un petit problème... I will be with you next Saturday. I will need a quiet bedroom and LOTS of your delicious home cooking.

  Au revoir, mes chéries, Fifi xxx

  ‘Wow,’ said Betty.

  ‘I wonder what her little problem is?’ contemplated Minnie.

  ‘Just a furball, I expect,’ said Bobby.

  ‘Egyptian fleas?’ wondered Betty. ‘We’d better get some flea powder.’

  ‘Er, we have some already,’ said Mrs Bold, looking very slightly embarrassed. ‘Those of us with fur need the occasional treatment. Saves scratching in public.’

  ‘I can’t imagine a great star like Fifi having fleas,’ pondered Minnie. ‘I mean, Shirley Bassey doesn’t have nits, does she?’

  ‘Not as far as we know, dear,’ agreed Mrs Bold. ‘Although she has worked with the Pet Shop Boys.’

  ‘We’d better get the spare room ready,’ said Betty. ‘I think it will be quiet enough for her.’

  ‘Oh Lord,’ gulped Mrs Bold. ‘Quiet, yes – but clean enough? I don’t think so! It’s filthy in there. And full of junk.’

  She was right: the Bolds’ spare bedroom had been host to all manner of animals recently: foxes, otters, a goose – and was decidedly whiffy as a consequence.

  ‘We’re on holiday now,’ said Betty. ‘We can all help get it ready for Fifi!’

  ‘And remember what we’ve been learning at school,’ added Minnie excitedly.

  The twins looked up and said together: ‘Reduce, reuse, recycle!’

  ‘Well done,’ said Minnie primly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bobby. ‘We don’t just chuck stuff out. We find a new home for it.’

  Mrs Bold thought about the piles of clothes, shoes, saucepans, bits of wood and half-chewed hosepipes and goodness knows what else that was in the spare room.

  ‘This will be a challenge,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure my Green Monitors will be up to it. We’ll start tomorrow, shall we? Perhaps I can make some new hats out of some of it?’

  The next day the clean-up of the spare bedroom began in earnest. Of course, Minnie came round to help. Mrs Bold was busy making several new hats – Easter was coming up and she was feeling very creative. Easter was always a busy time at her market stall and she was determined to have plenty of amazing, unusual bonnets for her customers.

  ‘You three go upstairs and get started,’ said Mrs Bold, handing them some bin liners, a dustpan and brush, a bucket of warm, soapy water and some squirty cleaning stuff.

  ‘We haven’t had a guest in there since Jeffrey the ape man and I’m afraid it has become rather a dumping ground for all sorts of bits and pieces.’ She looked a little worried.

  ‘But I’m sure you’ll sort it out. I’m just downstairs if you need me. I had a look in there this morning and you’re going to be quite busy. Several of our students left their calling cards behind – much like you did, Bobby, in the Binghams’ front garden.’

  Bobby giggled.

  ‘And the smell of fox is quite delicious. But unfortunately Fifi won’t like it, so you’ll have to scrub the floor and probably the walls to get rid of it.’

  ‘We’ll open the windows too,’ said Minnie, wrinkling her nose.

  ‘Call me when you need a drink or a snack.’

  Bobby, Betty and Minnie went upstairs and opened the door to the spare room. Except it wouldn’t open very far – there were so many things in there. Eventually the three friends managed to squeeze in.

  ‘Oh dear!’ said Minnie.

  ‘Wow!’ said Bobby.

  ‘Oops!’
said Betty.

  The Bolds, as you know, are always taking in other animals and either giving them shelter or, more usually, teaching them how to live disguised as humans. They have to learn how to walk and talk like humans, wear clothes – and most importantly, to use the toilet. This can be quite difficult, as the sights and smells in the spare room showed. But apart from that mess, there were piles of dirty clothes, chewed-up bits of wood, and old bones and toys strewn everywhere. A mound of shredded books, broken walking sticks, cardboard boxes, old shoes, broken hangers, hosepipes, saucepans, an old bicycle and who knows what else, reached almost to the ceiling. What was left of the curtains was torn and hanging in shreds – almost as if some creature or other had been swinging around from them. Worse still, a pair of foxes had lived in that room for several months and built an earth den there. Although the earth had been used later to make mud bonnets for Mrs Bold’s hats, quite a lot of it had been left behind. The windows were so dirty you could hardly see through them. Several flies buzzed around the rubbish, clearly cross at being disturbed.

  ‘Right then,’ said Minnie, rolling up her sleeves. ‘Let’s get started. We need to sort things into various piles,’ she added decisively. ‘Reuse, recycle and, er...’

  ‘Restore?’ offered Bobby.

  ‘Something like that. And we’ll need another pile for charity shop stuff. That’s four piles. I’ll pick things out, pass them to you, Betty, and Bobby will put them in the right pile. Here goes.’

  And so the clean-up began. It was tough, dirty work and everything had to be looked at and – in the twins’ case – sniffed and nibbled. It was difficult to know where to begin, so Minnie started with the mound in front of her. A black handle was sticking out of a pile of clothes, so she tugged at it until it came free.

  ‘A frying pan!’ said Minnie, handing it to Betty. ‘That should clean up with a bit of scrubbing. Reuse, I think!’

  Betty took the pan and sniffed it. ‘Hmmm. Bacon and eggs. Yes, reuse pile, please, Bobs.’ She passed the pan to her brother.

  Bobby sniffed it too, then couldn’t help but lick it. ‘Smoky bacon,’ he concluded. ‘Free-range eggs. Scrambled!’ He had another slurp then placed the frying pan down on the small area of floor that was still available.

  ‘Next – an old newspaper. Rather soiled,’ said Minnie, quickly passing it to Betty. ‘Recycle.’

  ‘Ugh!’ said Betty, tossing it up in the air for Bobby to catch. Bobby caught it and sniffed the air.

  ‘Craig the wild boar,’ announced Bobby. ‘He never did get the hang of loo paper.’ He shook his head and placed the newspaper in a new pile next to the frying pan.

  Meanwhile Minnie tugged at a green trouser leg until eventually an old pair of tracksuit bottoms emerged.

  ‘Charity shop?’ she wondered.

  ‘Ah!’ said Betty. ‘I remember when Uncle Tony wore these. Bless!’ She handed them to Bobby. ‘I wonder if he’d like them back?’

  ‘I don’t think he’d get into them any more,’ said Bobby, tugging at the elastic waistband. ‘He’s put on a few pounds. All that ice cream in the park with Mr McNumpty!’

  ‘Charity shop pile then,’ decided Betty.

  ‘Righto!’ said Bobby. Now there was no space anywhere to start a charity shop pile so Bobby decided it was best to throw the tracksuit bottoms over his shoulder and hope for the best.

  Had they had time to glance out of the window they might have seen there was quite a lot of activity going on next door at Number 39 as well. Mr McNumpty and Uncle Tony were in the garden there, dressed from head to toe in protective clothing, setting up a brand-new beehive. They’d only just released the queen bee and her drones into their new home, but already Mr McNumpty was looking forward to some reward.

  ‘Do you think there will be any honey to eat by this evening?’

  ‘Er, no, Nigel,’ said Uncle Tony. ‘First the queen needs to lay lots of eggs, which then hatch into worker bees who will go and collect the pollen. Takes all summer, you know, before you get any honey.’

  ‘Oh well,’ said Mr McNumpty. ‘I’ll be patient then. Nice to know I’m doing my bit for the planet.’

  Back at Number 41 the big clean-up of the spare room continued. Every item was perused by the twins and Minnie, and its new destiny decided upon. It was filthy, tiring work, but the three friends didn’t mind: they were together, having fun, and helping the environment along the way. After an hour and a half they had made quite a dent in the huge mountain. Minnie wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

  ‘Shall we have a break? I think a drink and a biscuit is called for.’

  ‘Yes!’ agreed the twins. It was only now that Minnie and Betty turned round, expecting to see four neat piles. Instead, Bobby was knee-deep in all the things they had just sorted through, all in as much of a muddle as before.

  ‘What... on... earth?’ said Minnie.

  ‘What have you done with all the stuff, Bobby?’ asked Betty.

  ‘Where are the different piles?’ said Minnie.

  Bobby looked around him. ‘Er, well, I think I got a bit confused.’

  ‘There’s still as much mess – it’s just in a different place!’ cried Minnie crossly.

  ‘Now we can hardly get out of the room!’ said Betty.

  Bobby scratched his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise. I was having fun.’

  Betty smiled at her brother. ‘To be fair, so was I.’

  ‘But now we’ve got to start all over again!’ said a bewildered Minnie.

  ‘So? That just means we can have even more fun!’ reasoned Bobby.

  ‘What a waste of time!’ said Minnie, shaking her head. But she couldn’t help but smile.

  Bobby wondered what was best to do. Then he realised he should do what his dad did in situations like this. Tell a joke!

  I used to work in a

  recycling centre, crushing cans.

  Did you really?

  Yes. But I had to give it up.

  It was soda pressing. Ha ha!

  What did the big tree say to the little tree?

  Leaf me alone!

  By now all three of them were laughing so much, the time they had wasted didn’t seem to matter and they decided to go down to the kitchen for a drink of something fizzy and a chocolate biscuit.

  ‘How’s it going?’ asked Mrs Bold when she saw them.

  But the children were laughing too much to reply.

  When Mrs Bold was told about the funny business in the bedroom she thought it best to give some more detailed instructions to avoid more time-wasting.

  ‘It’s a lovely day, so why not bring everything from the spare room down to the garden, then we can sort it out properly?’

  So that is what happened. Mr Bold waited in the garden (Mrs Bold was halfway through her Easter hat collection) as Bobby, Betty and Minnie delivered the contents of the spare room, armful by armful. Then they picked through each item and decided its fate. Next, Miranda the marmoset monkey placed it in the appropriate pile. This time the piles were in separate areas, well away from each other, so there would be no more mix-ups. This took the whole afternoon.

  ‘Well done, children!’ said Mrs Bold. ‘Now before we start the next stage of the proceedings – taking stuff to the recycling centre or the charity shop – I want to have a look through to see if there is anything that might be useful for my hats.’

  First she found a chewed plastic penguin. ‘This is nice,’ she declared. ‘I’m sure I can repair it!’

  How does a penguin build its house?

  Igloos it together!

  ‘And plastic flowers! Always useful,’ continued Mrs Bold, tugging at some stalks.

  What kind of flowers grow on your face?

  Tu-lips!

  Some bright yellow plastic plates in the reuse pile caught Mrs Bold’s eye
. ‘Hmmm... very cheerful. I’ll take these too.’

  Knock, knock,

  Who’s there?

  Dishes.

  Dishes who?

  Dishes a nice place

  you’ve got here!

  Mrs Bold chose a few more random items, and then the twins and Minnie helped Mr Bold load up the little blue Honda with things for the recycling centre.

  ‘Now all these clothes,’ said Mrs Bold to the children, ‘can go to the charity shop around the corner. Fold them up neatly and let’s put them in the wheelbarrow and take them there.’ There were quite a lot of clothes and the wheelbarrow was piled high, but they just about all fitted.

  ‘We’d better be careful,’ said Minnie. ‘I’ll lead the way and Bobby and Betty can take one handle each.’

  As Mrs Bold was busy finishing off her hats and Mr Bold was at the recycling centre, Minnie and the twins asked if they could go on their own. The charity shop wasn’t far and there were no roads to cross.

  Mrs Bold wondered if this was a good idea. ‘You will go straight there and straight back?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course, Mum!’ said Betty.

  ‘Promise!’ said Bobby.

  ‘And you’ll stick together?’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  ‘And not talk to strangers?’

  ‘It’s fine, Mum, we know all about stranger danger. We are nearly ten, after all!’