‘Shame you haven’t got any brothers, Tim,’ said Dad. ‘It won’t be such fun for you.’
‘We can have fun together,’ said Mum. ‘What are the shops like at Llanpistyll?’
‘Shops?’ said Dad. ‘I think there’s one.’
‘One?’ said Mum. ‘What sort of shop?’
‘I don’t know. A general store, I suppose,’ said Dad impatiently. ‘You don’t go to Llanpistyll to go shopping.’
‘Obviously not,’ said Mum. She sighed. ‘I like shopping.’
‘So do I,’ I said.
Dad sighed too. Even more impatiently. ‘Boys don’t like shopping,’ he said. ‘I worry about you sometimes, Tim.’
I worry about my dad sometimes too. He doesn’t half go on. And on and on.
‘We have a lovely time when we go shopping at the Flowerfields centre on Saturdays, don’t we, Tim?’ said Mum.
‘Tim should be having fun with his friends, not hanging round his mum,’ said Dad. Then he stopped and snapped his fingers. ‘I’ve had a brilliant idea!’
I twitched. I don’t always like my dad’s ideas. Particularly when he thinks they’re brilliant. But this time I thought it a Truly Dazzling idea.
‘Let’s invite one of Tim’s friends to come to Llanpistyll too,’ said Dad.
‘Oh yes!!!’ I said.
‘Oh no!’ said Mum. ‘I’m not at all sure about looking after someone else’s child. And some of those boys in Tim’s class at school are a pretty wild bunch.’
‘I don’t want to invite anyone from school,’ I said. ‘I want to invite Biscuits!’
‘That boy you met on the adventure holiday?’ said Mum.
‘The boy who was always eating?’ said Dad.
‘He seemed quite a nice well-behaved sort of boy,’ said Mum. ‘Better than that Kelly!’
I met this girl Kelly on the adventure holiday too. She’s my girlfriend now. I didn’t really choose her. She chose me. She keeps writing to me. She puts all these kisses at the end. It’s dead embarrassing. But she’s OK really. Quite good fun actually. But nowhere near as much fun as Biscuits.
So Dad got in touch with Biscuits’ dad. And Mum had a long talk on the phone with Biscuits’ mum. It was all fixed!
I was thrilled. Biscuits was thrilled.
Kelly was not at all thrilled when I wrote and told her.
She wrote back: ‘You mean rotten stinking pig. Why didn’t you ask me to go to this Llanpissy place with you? Though I’m going to have a MUCH better holiday. My mum’s got this new boyfriend with a caravan and we’re all going to go camping and it’ll be heaps more fun. And I might have asked you to come too but I’m not now. So there.’
I got a bit worried I might have upset Kelly.
‘But Kelly’s just my girlfriend. Biscuits is my best ever friend friend,’ I said to Mum. ‘I’m so so so pleased he’s coming on holiday. We’ll have such fun together. We laughed and mucked around and played all these daft games together when we were on that adventure holiday. It was great.’
‘I thought you said you’d had a terrible time,’ said Mum. ‘Oh dear. I think I’d better buy a good book for this holiday.’
She sounded a bit huffy. I got the feeling I’d somehow upset her too.
‘It’s only natural that Tim wants to play games with his pal. Do you know how to play French cricket, Tim? It’s a great game – but you’ll need me to join in too, to make up the numbers.’
‘Biscuits and me don’t like French or cricket, Dad. We play our own games. He’s Biscuits-Boy and I’m Super-Tim,’ I said.
‘Oh. Right. I see,’ said Dad. He suddenly sounded huffy too.
I seemed to have upset everyone.
I felt upset myself the morning of the holiday. Truly seriously upset. I felt sick and shaky and my tummy kept squeezing so I couldn’t eat my breakfast.
‘Oh dear, oh dear, I do hope you’re not going down with anything nasty, Tim,’ said Mum, feeling my forehead.
‘He’s fine. He’s just tired because it’s so early,’ said Dad, yawning.
It was ever so early, still practically night time. We had to make an early start because Llanpistyll is a very long way.
‘We’ve had to make an even earlier start than usual to pick up Biscuits on the way. You do realize, Tim, it’s adding a good fifty miles to the journey,’ said Dad.
‘Biscuits is such a silly name. I hope he’s not a silly boy. I don’t want you two messing around too much, Tim. I don’t like it when you get over-excited,’ said Mum. ‘Is that why you’re feeling funny, dear? Because you’re so looking forward to seeing him?’
I didn’t know. I suddenly felt shy. I knew I liked Biscuits ever so much. But what if he didn’t like me this time? Maybe he’d changed? Maybe he’d think me a bit weird now? And what would he think of my mum and dad?
I’d packed Walter Bear in my suitcase but I had to rush to my bedroom and get him out and have a quick nuzzle into his warm furry head. Then I saw myself in the mirror.
I saw this boy and this bear having a cuddle. Maybe Biscuits would think me a great big baby?
‘Come on, Tim, I thought you’d done all your packing,’ said Dad, peering round my door. ‘Put that silly bear down and get a move on.’
Dad certainly thought me a great big baby. I don’t think he likes Walter Bear one bit.
‘Do you really have to take that old bear with you?’ said Dad.
‘Yes, I really have to, Dad,’ I said clinging to Walter.
‘Well, pack it away, then! You don’t want Biscuits to laugh at you, do you?’ said Dad, and he snatched Walter and shoved him on top of my folded holiday clothes and slammed the case shut.
‘Dad! Watch out! His legs are all twisted back – and his nose will get squashed! He wants me to make him a special nest in my T-shirts,’ I wailed.
‘Oh give me strength!’ said Dad. ‘You mind I don’t pack you in the suitcase too. Now go and get in the car this minute while I lock up the house and get the boot loaded.’
‘No, wait! Tim, have you done a last wee?’ said Mum.
‘Yes!’
‘When? I should do another one just in case,’ said Mum.
I wondered if Mum would keep asking if I needed to have a wee when Biscuits was around. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe he would laugh at me.
It was a very long drive up to where Biscuits lived. I sat. I looked out the window. I bit my nails.
‘Are you all right, Tim? You’re ever so quiet,’ said Mum. ‘You’re not feeling sick, are you?’
‘A bit,’ I said.
‘Oh, dear,’ said Mum. ‘Here, have a barley sugar. Maybe we should have given you a travel pill. Wind the window down a bit, dear. If you really feel you’re going to be sick, do try to tell Dad in time, won’t you?’
‘He’s not going to be sick,’ said Dad. ‘Don’t keep on about it. Try to take his mind off it.’
‘Well, I’ve got some little treats in my bag – but I was going to wait until Biscuits could share them too. Why don’t you just cuddle up with Walter Bear, Tim?’
‘I can’t. He’s shut in the suitcase. With his legs bent back and his nose squashed sideways,’ I said mournfully.
‘Do give it a rest – both of you!’ said Dad.
Mum went into a huff.
I went in a huff too, though I’m not sure Dad noticed.
Then I fell asleep for a bit.
‘Wake up, Tim!’ Dad called. ‘We’re nearly at Biscuits’ house. Now, according to this map they sent, Marlow Road should be . . . oh blow, we’ve just gone past it!’
It took another ten minutes of turning down one-way roads and doing U-turns before we eventually arrived outside Biscuits’ house. And there was Biscuits on the doorstep.
‘There he is! Well, get out the car, Tim, and run and say hello,’ said Dad.
‘We’ll all get out, darling,’ said Mum. ‘Come on. What’s the matter? You’re not shy, are you?’
I felt s-o-o-o-o shy I couldn’t say a word. Biscu
its didn’t seem the slightest bit shy.
‘Hey, Tim! I’ve been looking out for you for ages! Hi, Mrs Parsons, Mr Parsons. My mum says do you want to come inside for a cup of tea?’
‘It’s very kind of you but we’d better get on our way,’ said Dad.
All the same, the two mums talked for ten minutes about mealtimes and bedtimes and boring stuff like that, and the two dads talked about motorways and petrol and boring stuff like that.
‘We could have had a cup of tea after all,’ said Biscuits. ‘And biscuits.’
‘Are you hungry, dear?’ said Mum.
‘You bet,’ said Biscuits.
‘Well, we’ll stop at a motorway café quite soon,’ said Mum.
‘Great,’ said Biscuits. He nudged me.
‘Great, Tim, yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. My voice was still all little and whispery.
‘Tim’s feeling a bit shy,’ Mum announced.
I could have kicked her. Everyone looked at me. I went red.
‘Do you think you ought to have a quick wee while we’re here, Tim?’ Mum said. She lowered her voice a bit this time – but everyone still heard. I went redder than ever.
I wouldn’t go, even though I quite wanted to. Biscuits said goodbye to his mum and dad and then we got in the car and set off.
‘Would you boys like a barley sugar?’ said Mum, passing us the bag.
‘Yes please,’ said Biscuits. He put three in his mouth at once and sucked happily. ‘Yum, I’m starving.’
‘We’ll stop at the first café we come to when we’re on the motorway,’ Mum said.
Dad wanted to carry on driving but Mum said Biscuits could obviously do with a proper breakfast. So we stopped at the first service station. We made a trip to the toilets first. I had to dash to get there in time. Then we went to the cafeteria. Mum and I just had tea and toast. Dad said he might as well have a fry-up now he was here.
‘That sounds a great idea,’ said Biscuits. ‘Can I have one too? With bacon and lots of sausages? Yum!’
‘You’ve certainly got a healthy appetite, young man,’ said Dad.
‘I think it’s an unhealthy appetite,’ said a funny squeaky voice. Something pink and knitted popped out of Biscuits’ pocket.
‘It’s Dog Hog!’ I said. ‘I’d forgotten all about him! It’s your doggy piggy thing your granny knitted.’
‘Yes, I’m Dog Hog. Fancy forgetting me!’ Biscuits made Dog Hog say. He pretended to poke me with one of his floppety arms. Then Dog Hog gave Biscuits a poke too. ‘You’re not to eat bacon or sausages! They might very well be my distant relations.’
‘Well, your distant relations taste ever so yummy,’ said Biscuits cheerily.
‘Horrid greedy boy,’ said Dog Hog. Biscuits made Dog Hog’s head wobble from side to side.
‘What’s he looking for?’ I said.
‘I’m looking for a certain Mr Bear I’ve heard a lot about,’ said Dog Hog.
‘Oh, you want to meet Walter Bear!’ I said. ‘Well, he’s all stuffed into my suitcase at the moment, isn’t he, Dad?’
Dad sighed – but his big breakfast had put him in a good mood. When we got back in the car he got my suitcase out of the boot and pulled Walter Bear out.
Poor poor Walter Bear. I straightened his legs very gently. He lay back stiffly in my arms, his entire snout squashed out of shape.
‘I don’t think he’s been able to breathe a bit!’ I said, trying to rub his nose back into position.
‘Here, let Dog Hog get at him,’ said Biscuits, and he made Dog Hog bend over and put his woolly mouth on Walter’s.
‘What is he doing? Kissing him?’ I said.
‘No! He’s giving him artificial respiration,’ said Biscuits.
‘Oh, right,’ I said happily. I pummelled Walter Bear’s furry chest. ‘I’ll help too. Come on, Walter, start breathing again.’
I made Walter take a great big breath and sit up.
‘Ah! Thank you so much,’ I made him say, in a deep growly voice. ‘Who is this kind pink person, Tim? He’s certainly saved my bacon. Whoops! Pardon the expression.’
‘This is Dog Hog, Walter Bear.’
‘I like Dog Hog, Tim,’ said Walter Bear.
‘So do I,’ I said.
And I liked Biscuits too. Ever so much. I wasn’t shy any more. Not one bit.
‘I’m glad you’re coming on holiday with us, Biscuits,’ I said.
‘Me too!’ said Biscuits. ‘Hey, I’m glad this isn’t an adventure holiday like last time.’
‘You can say that again!’
‘I’m glad this isn’t an adventure holiday like last time.’
‘You can say that again!’
We both started cracking up laughing. But we were wrong.
This holiday was going to be Truly Terribly Adventurous!
CHAPTER TWO
OUR HOTEL WAS called the Gwesty Bryn Nodfa. Gwesty is Welsh for hotel. We were guests in the Gwesty. There weren’t many other guests because it’s quite a little hotel.
Two old ladies looked out of the Gwesty guest lounge and saw Biscuits and me and said, ‘Oh dear! Boys! They’ll start rampaging around in their great big boots.’
So Biscuits whispered in my ear, ‘Oh dear! Old ladies! They’ll start rampaging around in their great big Scholl sandals.’
I cracked up laughing. Biscuits did too. Mum frowned at us.
‘Boys! Calm down now.’ She looked apologetically at the old ladies. ‘Don’t worry, they’re very well-behaved boys.’
‘But I bet they’re very badly behaved old ladies,’ Biscuits whispered.
I cracked up laughing again. Biscuits did too. We couldn’t stop even when Mum got really cross. Biscuits laughed so much he choked on the last bit of a Kit Kat he’d been munching and he had to be patted on the back. Little bits of Kit Kat – Kitten Krumbs – spattered out of his mouth and slurped down his chin.
‘Really!’ said Mum, whipping out her hankie.
‘Oh leave the boys be. It’s just high spirits,’ said Dad. ‘Come on, don’t let’s bother with unpacking. Let’s get on the beach while the sun’s still out.’
So we walked to the beach. We loped down all these little lanes with hedges full of honeysuckle and wild roses and harebells. We spotted one hedgehog and two butterflies and three rabbits and four magpies. Mum said it seemed a very long way to this beach.
Then we had to skirt round a cabbage field and Biscuits and I had a long discussion about the general disgustingness of cabbage. Even Biscuits isn’t keen on eating something that pongs of old drains. Mum said she was sure we were lost and she was getting a blister.
Then we had to climb over a stile. It was fun sorting out which way to put your legs. Dad said they were also called kissing gates. He helped Mum climb over and when she was balancing at the top he kissed her! I was dead embarrassed. Biscuits and I raised our eyebrows and made smarmy sucky kissing noises. Mum went very pink but she didn’t tell us off. Her blister didn’t seem to be hurting her any more because she didn’t lag behind. She bounced along arm in arm with Dad, while Biscuits and I ran ahead because we could see the sea at last.
‘Careful!’ Mum shouted. ‘Don’t go too near the edge, boys!’
But we weren’t at the top of a steep chalky cliff. It was all sandy grass and then there was just a long slope of wonderful soft sand in front of us, down down down to the beach.
‘Wheeeeeeee!’ shouted Biscuits, and he started sliding down on his bottom.
‘Wheeeeeeee!’ I shouted too, sliding likewise. I had sand all up my T-shirt and shorts but I didn’t care a bit. I leaned over sideways and tumbled over and over, shrieking.
‘Wow!’ said Biscuits, and he turned sideways and started tumbling too.
He looked like a great big beachball bouncing all the way down.
By the time I got to the bottom I had sand in my hair and my ears and my mouth and even up my nose but I still didn’t care. I just took off my T-shirt and rubbed it all off. Biscuits
did the same.
‘Keep your T-shirts on, boys. You don’t want to get sunburnt!’ Mum called.
She rubbed us all over with this sunscreen stuff. It was ever so tickly and Biscuits and I both got the giggles. Then the sun went in and soon we needed our T-shirts back on, and our sweaters.
‘How about a game of French cricket to get warm?’ said Dad.
‘Oh Dad. No! I hate games like that,’ I said.
‘You’ve never even played it. Come on, it’s fun, Tim,’ said Dad.
‘Why don’t you all make a nice sandcastle?’ said Mum quickly.
‘Oh yes!’ I said. I know about castles. I did this special project at school. ‘Let’s build a motte and bailey castle, eh, Biscuits?’ I said.
‘You what?’ said Biscuits. ‘Bot and naily?’
‘You twit! Motte. That’s a castle that’s up on a mound, right? And the bailey is the walk right round it.’
‘No, don’t let’s build a boring old motte and bailey castle, Tim. We’ll do my bot and naily castle. All the soldiers stand up the top and moon at the enemy showing their bots, right?’
‘OK, OK,’ I said, giggling. ‘And then they cut off all their horny old toenails and flick them over the parapets so that it’s like confetti and all these daggy old nailies get in the enemies’ hair, right, Biscuits?’
‘What on earth are you two going on about?’ said Dad, getting a bit irritated. ‘OK, let’s build a sandcastle.’
There was just one problem. We didn’t have any decent spades. There was a little kiosk right along at the top of the beach so we trailed all the way there but they just had little baby plastic spades for toddlers. They had ice-cream though so we had that instead.
I was a bit disappointed. I had this vision of a brilliant turreted castle on a mound with garderobes and arrow-slit windows and a little drawbridge. But Biscuits licked his ice-cream happily and didn’t seem to mind a bit.
When we went back to the hotel I spotted something in the umbrella stand in the hall. Two big spades with painted wooden handles and hard metal blades. They were very old and chipped but still sturdy. They looked as if they’d been lolling in the umbrella stand a very long time.
The hotel lady, Mrs Jones, made a fuss of Biscuits at dinner because he had mushroom soup and a roll and then chicken and chips and peas and then apple pie and cream and he said it was all extra yummy, especially the pie. Mrs Jones said it was her own special home-made pie and she brought him another slice because she said it was good to see a young man who appreciated his food.