The Bolds Go Green Read online

  ‘It’s just like a rather large bat!’ said Annika. ‘Could it really be Fergie?’

  ‘Well, I never. I think it might be,’ agreed Mrs Bold.

  ‘Why, I do believe you’re right, kids!’ said Uncle Tony, giving the twins an affectionate pat on the back.

  ‘Well spotted,’ said Mr Bold. The group sat back down at the table and looked at each other, eyes shining with excitement.

  ‘But why would Fergie the fruit bat and Charlie the skunk be living in the Palace of Westminster?’ wondered Annika, scratching her head. ‘Did they get lost?’

  ‘And what do we do now?’ asked Uncle Tony.

  ‘This possible sighting and the alleged stink bomb both need investigating,’ summed up Mr McNumpty.

  ‘Well, I think this calls for a family trip to Westminster, don’t you?’ said Mrs Bold. ‘Children, go and get ready. And I’d better check on Fifi before we leave.’

  While the twins were getting themselves ready for the expedition to Westminster, Mrs Bold tapped gently on Fifi’s bedroom door and entered with some breakfast. But Fifi was panting a little and asked for the curtains to remain closed.

  ‘I wish to be alone, Amelia. Do not disturb me, s’il vous plaît.’

  ‘Are you all right, Fifi?’ asked Mrs Bold.

  ‘I think,’ said Fifi, between pants, ‘that my puppies are on their way.’

  ‘Do you need anything?’ asked Mrs Bold in a state of nervous excitment. ‘Hot water? Towels?’

  ‘No need, Amelia. I think I will be fine.’

  Mrs Bold went downstairs to tell everyone the wonderful news and they all agreed that they couldn’t go to Westminster now and leave Fifi alone. Besides, the twins were far too excited to see the puppies. They didn’t want to miss their arrival. So for the next few hours, the Bolds were careful not to make too much noise. The only exception was when Annika knocked over a vase accidentally and there was a bit of a clatter.

  It was early afternoon when Mrs Bold heard some high-pitched little yelps coming from Fifi’s room, so she went upstairs with the twins following close behind, and gently knocked on the door. ‘Hello, Fifi?’

  ‘Come in!’ said Fifi, sounding tired but happy. ‘Come and see my babies!’

  Mrs Bold and the twins gently opened the door and entered the darkened room. The bed was empty, but then they spotted Fifi, lying inside one of the open Louis Vuitton cases. Nestling next to her were five of the cutest puppies ever seen.

  ‘Meet my shepadoodles,’ said Fifi proudly. All five were mainly white with black ears and a few splodges. Their eyes were closed and they wriggled and nuzzled, trembling slightly.

  ‘Oh my, Fifi,’ whispered Mrs Bold. ‘Aren’t they wonderful?’

  ‘My Samir will be so thrilled,’ replied Fifi, giving them a gentle lick.

  ‘And are you OK?’ asked Mrs Bold.

  ‘I am very well, thank you. Filled with so much happiness,’ she said quietly. ‘Overcome with love!’

  Mrs Bold and the twins stayed for a little, admiring the pups and congratulating their mother, but decided to leave her in peace to bond with her litter and recover from the birth.

  ‘I’ll bring you something nice and wholesome to eat a bit later,’ said Mrs Bold, as she stood up to leave. ‘We’re just popping out to, er, visit Big Ben.’

  ‘A good name for one of my pups,’ pondered Fifi, as she tucked into the afterbirth.

  So, a couple of hours later, Mr and Mrs Bold, together with the twins, Mr McNumpty and Annika, emerged from Westminster tube station. (Uncle Tony and Miranda had opted to stay at home as they were rather tired and Fifi might need a drink or a snack.) The group gazed in wonder at the famous Westminster Palace and squinted up at Big Ben, although nothing significant seemed apparent. There were lots of tourists taking photos, and many cars, bicycles, police officers and some police horses too, who gave the Bolds a knowing look.

  ‘What do we do now?’ asked Betty.

  ‘Er, I’m not sure yet,’ admitted Mr Bold. ‘Annika? What do you think?’ But Annika was a bit overcome by the crowds and the noise and had pulled her hood up over her head.

  ‘I don’t know where to begin, to be honest,’ she said, her voice a little shaky. ‘This may all be a mistake. How did we ever expect to spot them here?’

  They wandered over Westminster Bridge and back again and then peered inside the grand doors of Westminster Abbey. Every now and then Mr McNumpty got his binoculars out and scanned the horizon, paying particular attention to the top of Big Ben. But there was no sight of anything bat-shaped and no smell of skunk. Annika shook her head and sighed.

  ‘Let’s cross over to the green,’ suggested Betty. ‘I’d like to see the statues while we’re here.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘There’s a bronze of Winston Churchill over there.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’ve heard rumours he was a bulldog, you know.’

  They ambled around Parliament Square. There were lots of tents with colourful flags and bunting where climate change campaigners were camping out. Betty admired their mohair jumpers and baggy cheesecloth trousers.

  ‘They’re all smiling and look so friendly!’ she declared.

  A girl with braided hair even offered her a biscuit. ‘Try a vegan surprise?’ she said. ‘Made from sustainably farmed buckwheat.’

  Betty accepted and declared it to be delicious, if a bit chewy.

  Eventually they all grew tired and sat down on the grass.

  ‘It’s hard to know where to begin, isn’t it?’ said Annika. ‘I had no idea it would be so busy!’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘But it was worth a try. Why not take your hood off? If Fergie or Charlie are here, we need them to spot you.’

  ‘But people might stare at me,’ replied Annika. ‘I’m very self-conscious about my long nose.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,’ said Mr McNumpty. ‘They have all sorts here.’

  So Annika pulled her hood down and looked around hopefully. But nothing happened.

  ‘It’ll be dark soon,’ said Bobby gloomily. ‘Perhaps it was a silly idea of mine. What we thought was a bat might have been a trick of the light.’

  ‘Shall we just go home then?’ asked Betty despondently.

  ‘Soon,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘But we’re here now so let’s just wait a little longer, shall we?’

  ‘Oh, look over there,’ said Betty. ‘That’s the statue of Millicent Fawcett, the women’s suffragette campaigner.’

  She went for a closer inspection.

  ‘I like her banner,’ she said, reading it aloud: ‘COURAGE CALLS TO COURAGE EVERYWHERE.’

  ‘Yes, I like it too!’ said Mrs Bold. ‘Fred? Nigel? We must not give up. Like the suffragettes, who fought for human women to have the vote, we must be courageous, do you hear?’

  ‘Quite right,’ said Mr McNumpty, suddenly looking energised and standing up. ‘Our two missing animal chums might be here somewhere and we must work harder to find them!’

  ‘I do believe they are here,’ said Annika, sniffing the air. ‘I can just sense it!’

  ‘Courage!’ cried Betty.

  ‘Where are they, though? They could be anywhere...’ said Bobby. ‘It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack!’

  Suddenly Mr Bold jumped in the air.

  ‘Aha!’ he said excitedly. ‘You’ve given me an idea, Bobby!’

  ‘Have I?’ said Bobby. ‘How?’

  ‘Hay,’ said Mr Bold. ‘Haystack. Who eats hay? Horses! What horses are there round here? Police horses!’

  ‘Yee-ees?’ nodded Bobby, looking confused.

  ‘Well, if anyone knows where to find a skunk and a fruit bat, it will be a fellow animal, won’t it? The horses might know if they are here or not, they’re on duty every day, and if Charlie and Fergie are here, the horses can tell us where! They clocked
us when we arrived, I saw it on their faces.’

  ‘Brilliant idea, Fred!’ said Mrs Bold. ‘Go and ask them.’

  There were two shiny chestnut-brown horses a few metres away, with mounted police officers sitting on their backs scanning the crowds. As the others watched, Mr Bold wandered casually over to the handsome steeds, then stopped close by. He sat nonchalantly on the grass. The others could see him whisper and the horses’ heads turning slowly in his direction. A conversation took place, equine lips moving busily while Mr Bold paid careful attention. Eventually the hyena stood up, gave a surreptitious nod of thanks, and walked back to his family, looking as if he might burst with excitement.

  ‘Bingo!’ he said.

  ‘Really? They knew something?’ asked Annika.

  ‘They certainly did,’ said Mr Bold. ‘Bobby was right. Fergie is roosting up at the top of Big Ben, here to keep an eye on Charlie.’

  ‘And where is Charlie?’ asked Mrs Bold.

  ‘The red tent with the “There Is No Planet B, Folks!” on top, apparently. Pitched in the middle of the square. He’s hiding inside with some climate change and animal liberation campaigners called Twig and Swig.’

  Before we meet Twig and Swig, I need to explain a few things about them. They were a rather unusual couple. Kind and caring – they must be, as they’d been looking after a lost skunk – but there’s more. Twig and Swig had dedicated their whole lives to saving our planet. They decided ages ago, that if they wanted the world to be a better, greener, healthier place, then they had to live up to their own hopes and expectations. They travelled around by foot or bicycle and lived in a tent all year round. Twig and Swig ate a strictly plant-based vegan diet, refusing all meat, fish, poultry, eggs and cheese. Instead they enjoyed delicious wholegrains, beans, legumes, tofu, nuts and seeds. They also took care to avoid any animal-derived clothing or accessories, so no leather, wool or fur. All their garments were made from cruelty-free, recycled and sustainable materials. It was all ethical and eco-friendly: footwear was made from recycled rubber, clothing was 100 per cent organic cotton or hemp or Eco-fi, a high-quality fibre created from post-consumer recycled plastic bottles.

  And there’s more... Twig and Swig didn’t wish to be identified as male or female. They were what is known as gender fluid – they wanted to remain flexible about whether they were Arthur or Martha, depending on how they felt. So, out of respect, this means I shall not write about ‘him’ or ‘her’ or ‘she’ or ‘he’. We must respectfully refer to ‘them’ or ‘they’. All clear? (I can tell you that Twig has a beard and Swig has a high-pitched voice and wears vegan lipstick, but please don’t jump to any conclusions based on that snippet of information. They are non-binary gender variants, and that’s all you need to know.) Just remember they were kind and caring and they wouldn’t harm a fly. And if they did, it would be an accident and they’d feel very sorry and apologise.

  Twig and Swig spent their time moving from one part of the country to another, depending on where they thought their presence was required. They believed that non-violent protests are a necessary means to an end. Sometimes they got arrested, appeared in court and were fined, but they didn’t mind this. If they must break the law to save the world, then so be it. Once they camped outside at a fracking site near Blackpool, where they lay down in the road to stop the lorries passing. And as members of Plastic Attack UK, they often pushed trolleys filled with unwanted packaging collected from customers outside supermarkets back through the retailers’ doors.

  Twig and Swig were also keen animal liberationists and no strangers to direct action. In fact, this is how they came to meet Charlie and Fergie. Together with some other animal freedom fighters, they were hiding in woods outside Shorthop Zoo, planning to break in and liberate some inmates, when they were disturbed in the middle of the night by Fergie crash-landing into the side of their tent. The fruit bat, unbalanced by her cargo of skunk, had flown off course. Instead of arriving at the spot where Annika was waiting, Fergie had lost all sense of direction. In the darkness, she panicked and had no idea where she was. Twig and Swig didn’t hesitate to shelter the pair inside their tent, and, guessing they had escaped from the zoo, kept them safe and hidden, and fed them with plenty of nutritious lentil and wild nettle soup.

  Fergie and Charlie were impressed by their earnest new friends and, being animals, instinctively knew they were good, kind people. Listening to the humans talk, they understood their heartfelt desire to help save the planet and live blameless carbon-free lives.

  When Twig and Swig decided they were going off to London to join a major global warming protest, the fruit bat and the skunk were taken along with them. They settled themselves in the red tent in Parliament Square – cramped but safe, and enjoyed the adventure. Of course they worried about their lost companion, Annika, and hoped, eventually, to find their way to Teddington.

  Fergie found the group’s habit of folk singing and improvised drumming a trifle wearing (she remembered the Aboriginals’ music from Australia and thought they did it much better), so in the evenings she would fly off to roost at the top of Big Ben, where it was more peaceful, apart from the chimes.

  It was Swig’s idea to hide Charlie inside their anorak and smuggle him into the public gallery of the Houses of Parliament. The stink bomber was really Charlie the skunk, of course, making his feelings clear about the current government’s paltry efforts to lower carbon emissions!

  The Bolds’ party soon located the bright red tent with the ‘There Is No Planet B, Folks!’ banner. There was no door to knock on, so they loitered expectantly outside the zipped flaps for a moment before Mr Bold cleared his throat and said: ‘Er, hello? Could I speak to Twig and Swig, please?’ There was a rustling inside the tent and then the zip was lowered a little and a face appeared.

  ‘Twig here,’ said a friendly voice. ‘Friend or foe?’

  ‘Oh, friend, definitely,’ said Mr Bold.

  Have you heard the joke about the skunk and the camping trip?

  Never mind, it really stinks!

  ‘Ha! Very funny!’ smiled Twig, who then unzipped the tent completely and jumped out together with another person.

  ‘How do you do?’ they said. ‘I’m Twig and this is Swig. How can we help you?’ A smell of sweet incense wafted out from the tent.

  ‘We’re the Bolds – well, most of us are. And we’ve brought our friend Annika with us. We hear you might know the whereabouts of her pets, who happen to be a skunk and a fruit bat?’

  Annika stepped forward, introduced herself and shook the protestors’ hands warmly.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said the aardvark.

  Twig and Swig looked at each other, somewhat surprised by her appearance.

  ‘Are you the police?’ asked Twig.

  ‘Oh, no, no, no, nothing like that I can assure you,’ said Mr Bold.

  ‘Although we have done quite bit of detective work to find you!’ chipped in Mr McNumpty.

  Mr Bold’s mention of a skunk and a fruit bat seemed more than a coincidence, but Twig wanted to be sure. They looked at the aardvark. ‘Where did you lose your “pets”?’

  ‘Outside Shorthop Zoo,’ replied Mr Bold. ‘You can trust us.’

  Twig and Swig smiled serenely at each other and then at their visitors. They were so kind and so evolved, they knew, at a glance, if someone was honest or not. It was as if they could see into people’s hearts and souls. They nodded simultaneously, each knowing what the other was thinking and in agreement.

  ‘You are honest people,’ stated Swig. ‘We can tell.’

  ‘We can’t fit you all inside our tent, but would Annika like to come and speak to her “pets”?’

  A moment later Annika was perched on a low stool inside the zipped-up tent with Swig and Twig. Swig then opened up a duffle bag and spoke gently into the opening.

  ‘Are you awake? Someone has come to see you!’ T
here were one or two sleepy snuffling noises and then a glistening black nose appeared, twitching and sniffing, followed by a furry black head with a dramatic white stripe along the crown.

  ‘Charlie!’ cried Annika. ‘I am so pleased to see you again!’

  The skunk’s dark eyes opened wide in amazement and he immediately wriggled out of the bag and leaped to the aardvark’s side, sniffing and licking with joy.

  ‘My friend, I can’t believe it! What happened to you?’

  ‘I waited in the woods outside the zoo for you and Fergie for ages. Then I realised something must have gone wrong and I was on my own. I made my way to Teddington.’

  ‘Ah, the Bolds! Of course!’ said Charlie. ‘How clever of you. We were very lucky, as it happens. We crash-landed into a campsite of eco-warriors and they looked after us.’ Charlie nodded towards Swig and Twig. ‘But how did you know I was here?’

  ‘We didn’t for sure. But the stink bomb in Parliament? We guessed it was you! And how is Fergie? Is her wing still all right?’

  ‘As good as new, thank you,’ came a muffled voice from inside an organic hemp sleeping bag.

  ‘Fergie, you’re here too!’ said Annika, as the fruit bat emerged, yawning, then, after a hop and a flap of wings, she hung from the top of the tent roof, smiling down at her long-lost friend.

  ‘Drums, bells, incense,’ she muttered. ‘This saving-the-world business has given me one of my headaches!’

  Half an hour later, Annika emerged from the tent carrying a beaded, synthetic leather, toxic-free and rather full holdall. She gave Twig and Swig a long, heartfelt hug.

  ‘Namaste,’ said Twig.

  ‘Love and light,’ said Swig. ‘Go in peace. We hope to see you all again one day.’

  Everyone waved and the Bolds’ party made their way to the Underground station. The holdall proved a little too heavy for Annika to carry, so Mr McNumpty took over.