“Vroom, vroom,” chanted Horace. He was back in the dog-house – but now he didn’t care.
Because now he had Hope. He had a Plan.
And he had seven metres of strong elastic which he had borrowed from Mrs Hay’s sewing-basket.
It was plain that he couldn’t make a full-sized car out of construction bricks. None the less, he was sure he would find a way to go at a hundred miles an hour.
“Vroom, vroom,” Horace growled as he pottered around the garden looking for things he could use to build his car.
There were a few house bricks lying by the wall. He piled them, one by one, behind the garden shed. He added some old roof tiles that had been dumped behind the compost heap, and the biggest stones from the rockery that he could carry.
The shed door was open a crack. Horace pushed it wider until he could squeeze inside.
This was more like it! He carried out several lengths of wood and added them to his pile. There were some tools there which might come in handy too: hammers, saws and screwdrivers.
But he still needed the most important thing of all. Wheels.
Remembering how he had trundled into the pond in the toddler’s toy pram, Horace had another brainwave.
Hadn’t Mrs Hay stowed all Josh’s old baby things in here last year? He sniffed carefully around the shed, hunting for a baby-Josh scent. Tracking it down, he rummaged in the darkest, cobwebbiest corner.
There it was! His heart leapt like a happy grasshopper.
“Treasure!” he barked joyfully.
It was an old, rusty baby buggy. Horace blew the dust off it, along with a few spiders. Then, taking the handle carefully in his teeth, he dragged it out to add to his hoard.
Now he had his wheels! It was time to build the car.
First, Horace piled bricks and stones onto the buggy. It was quite hard to keep them in place.
Perhaps a roof would help. He laid short planks of wood on top of them for roof beams, and covered them with the old tiles. All the best roofs had tiles.
Finally his car was built. Horace tied one end of the elastic round the buggy handle.
“Not bad,” he said, before he realised that there was nowhere to sit inside his car.
It was a solid pile of bricks. He would have to sit on the roof.
But the roof was quite high. It was too high for him to jump on to, and he couldn’t climb up on it without pulling the whole thing over.
“Hmm,” said Horace. After some thought, he scrambled up into the apple tree overhead, and wriggled as far as he dared along the lowest branch.
Then, taking a deep breath, he dived.
He landed on his stomach of the roof of his new car. After nearly sliding straight off again, he gradually got his balance.
“Excellent!” said Horace, sitting up on top of his new car.
“What’sss excccellent?” hissed a voice from a heap of dead leaves. Kimi stuck her striped head out. She stared at the car, before the rest of her followed.
“What in heaven’s name is that?” she demanded.
“My new car. What do you think?”
“I think it looks like a pile of bricks on top of an old buggy. It’ll never go.”
“Yes, it will!” barked Horace. “Just pull on that elastic, will you?”
“Pull on...?” Kimi looked incredulous. “You want me to pull that car? It must weigh a ton. You’d need an elephant to shift it!”
“Oh! Really?” Horace drooped. “I never thought of that.”
“Elementary physics,” said Kimi. “Either an elephant, or an engine.”
“Please, Kimi! Won’t you help me make my car go? Then I can drive you to the desert,” promised Horace. “You wanted to go there, after all.”
“We never found the desert last time,” grumbled Kimi. “You drove the wrong way. Still... Hang on there a minute.” She took the loose end of the elastic in her mouth and disappeared into the garden shed.
“I suppose I’d better start again,” sighed Horace. “I’ll just jump down.” Peering at the ground, he wobbled dangerously. “Oh, help. I’m an awfully long way up! Kimi!”
Kimi did not reply. Inside the shed, something roared. The elastic tied to Horace’s car began to slowly stretch.
The shed door flew open. The lawnmower shot out, with Kimi twined round its handle, and raced across the lawn.
“Hold on!” she shrieked. “You’ll move any second now!”
The elastic tightened. A brick tumbled off the back of Horace’s car.
“Here we go,” he yelled. “Let’s hit the road – aargh!”
The buggy took off. It left all the bricks behind. They seemed to hover in the air for a while with Horace teetering on top – and then they collapsed in a thunderous, painful heap. Horace rolled over, shedding bricks, and sat up.
The lawnmower had mown one neat stripe across the lawn, and was now mowing a less neat stripe across the flowerbeds, flinging out a shower of buds and leaves.
“Whoa!” shouted Horace, as shredded marigolds rained down on him. “Slow down there, Kimi!”
“It’s out of control!” wailed Kimi, clinging to the handle like a piece of wet string.
Having mangled the marigolds and pulverised the petunias, the lawnmower headed for Mr Hay’s lettuces. Salad scattered everywhere like green confetti.
After it had finished laying waste the lettuces, the lawnmower tried to mow the apple tree.
This was a step too far. It toppled over on its back, blades whirring, whining like a giant bluebottle. Horace galloped over to it and switched it off.
“Are you all right, Kimi?”
“No!” wailed the snake. “It’s too bumpy and it stinks of petrol. I feel sick!”
“You can’t,” said Horace. “Being car-sick is one thing, but nobody gets lawnmower-sick.”
“I do,” moaned Kimi.
“Well, just try and–” Horace broke off as the back door to the kitchen rattled. Mr Hay! He was going to be in trouble, yet again. Big trouble. He seized Kimi in his mouth and ran.
Just in time...
Mr Hay strode out and stood in the middle of the garden, hands on hips. He frowned at his petunias and glared at the lettuce beds. At the sight of the lawnmower, he snorted like a steam engine.
“Horace!” he bellowed. He looked in the dog-house. It was empty.
He hunted in the bushes. No Horace.
He peered into the shed. No dog there either.
Mr Hay snorted again. Then he picked up the lawnmower, flung it in the shed, and stamped inside.
A minute later, the compost heap began to tremble. It quivered and shook and then erupted. Horace’s head burst out of the top in a volcano of old potato peelings.
“I think we got away with it,” he said.
Kimi emerged next to him. She shook away a brown banana skin. “Now I feel really sick!” she moaned. “That’s the last time I help you out.”
“I won’t need any more help, thanks,” said Horace, grinning broadly. “I’ve just had the best idea of the lot! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”
“Not more elastic?” Kimi groaned.
“Nope.”
“A concrete car?”
“No! I’m going to make a real car with a real engine,” vowed Horace.
“Where are you going to get an engine?” Kimi asked.
“Easy! You’ve just shown me. A lawnmower!”
Chapter Five