“Stop it!” said Jackie. “They all looked round – twenty chimps – and they all picked up bits of poo – and all threw it at the same time at Malcolm! It was like a huge battalion of medieval soldiers catapulting cannonballs at a castle! Except it wasn’t medieval soldiers, it was monkeys! And it wasn’t a castle, it was Malcolm’s face! And it wasn’t cannonballs, it was … AHHHHHAHAHAHA …!!!”
That, unfortunately, was Jackie. Joining in with the laughter.
“… poo …!!” she finally finished.
“AHHHHHAHAHAHA!!!”
“It was poo!” she said again, irrelevantly, to be honest. “Monkey droppings! Chimp plop! Planet of the Apes poo-poo! AHHHHHAHAHAHA!!”
“AHHHAHAHAHA!!”
That was everyone else.
“So … having a nice time?” That was Malcolm.
Everyone looked round.
Malcolm was standing at the door to the living room, with his arms crossed.
The rest of the family fell silent.
For almost twelve seconds.
Then they all started laughing again. In that way that people do when they’re trying not to, laughter bursting out of them like jets of air from an overfull balloon that someone is releasing, then pinching closed, and then releasing again. It’s made worse, that type of laughter, if you’re the object of it, because it sounds like the people laughing are not just laughing at you, but blowing raspberries as well.
“BRRRR! HAHAHA!! HAHAHA! BRRRR! AHHAHAHAHA!!!” went Malcolm’s family.
Chatter chatter chatter scream scream scream! went AnimalSFX in Bert’s hand.
Malcolm shook his head, raised his eyes to heaven and turned to go back to his bedroom.
“Hang on, Malcolm,” said Stewart. “Sorry sorry sorry! We’re all really sorry! Aren’t we?”
“Yes!” said Jackie.
“Yes!” said Grandpa.
“STTM …”11 said Libby.
“Can I eat sorry?” said Bert.
“But look …” said Stewart. “If it helps … we do have one more present.”
“Is it a chinchilla hat?” said Malcolm, not turning round. “A chinchilla key-ring? Tickets to Chin-Chinenney Chin-Chinenney Chin-Chin Chilla!: The Musical?”
“No!”
“It’s got nothing to do with chinchillas at all …?”
“Nothing.”
Slowly, Malcolm turned round. He looked at his father suspiciously.
“All right then,” he said.
Stewart walked over to Malcolm, then took something out of his pocket and handed it over.
The last present.
It was slim: perhaps some kind of card, wrapped up in the candles paper.
Aha! thought Malcolm. A voucher! I can use that to buy the Apache 321!
“Oh, thanks, Dad!” he said, as his fingers took off the Sellotape on the back. “And Mum! Sorry, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful about the chinchilla! Can we go to the shops today with the vouch—”
Malcolm stopped speaking, as the word vouch ended on his lips, never to be added to with an er. He frowned, looking at the piece of card, on which were many, many pictures of animals.
For the second time that day, Malcolm looked up in confusion at his beaming parents.
“It’s a card! That we all made together!” said Libby. “BT!”12
“Oh … that’s nice …”
“Look inside,” said Jackie. “We saved up!”
Malcolm looked inside. There were more pictures of animals, plus the words, “Happy Birthday!”
There was also a piece of paper, folded up. Ah, he thought, the voucher. Right.
Malcolm unfolded the piece of paper.
It wasn’t a voucher.
It was an invoice.13 An invoice from his school: he knew this because the words Bracket Wood Primary School were printed on top of it.14 On the main bit of the paper were the words:
YEAR SIX SCHOOL TRIP
With a stamp across them that said:
PAID
Malcolm looked up.
“Oh. Thanks!”
He meant this, even though it wasn’t a voucher that he could use to buy an FZY Apache 321. Malcolm knew that his mum and dad would have struggled to pay the £300 required for the Year Six School Trip. In fact, as he looked at the invoice, it occurred to him that possibly it was a good thing that Ticky and Tacky had torn down his birthday list – and it had then been spread on the bottom of ’Nana’s cage – as maybe, he realised now, his mum and dad couldn’t actually afford an FZY Apache 321.
And Malcolm did want to go: the Year Six Trip was exciting. It was three days long – the first time he’d be away from his family! – and most other children he knew would be going. So he would’ve sounded more enthusiastic about his thanks were it not for the fact that he didn’t actually know where the school trip was going to this year.
So he said:
“No, really, Mum and Dad, thanks. That’s really nice of you. By the way – I know I should know this, but – where is it to, this year? The trip?”
“Um …” said Jackie and Stewart, both at the same time.
