Stink picked up the receiver with a nonchalance that suggested he often received calls from world leaders. “Stink here. Yes? Yes? Oh yes…?”
Mum and Chloe studied his face like a map, trying to read from his reactions what the Prime Minister was saying.
“Yes, yes, yes. Well, yes, thank you Prime Minister.”
Mr Stink put the receiver down and sat back at the table to resume his now daily task of reading about himself in the newspapers.
“Well?” asked Chloe.
“Yes, well?” chimed in Mother.
“The Prime Minister has invited me to go for tea at Number Ten Downing Street today,” said Mr Stink matter-of-factly. “He wants me to take over from you, Mrs Crumb, as the local candidate. May I have those sausages now please, Chloe?”
“Hoooorrraaaayyyyy!” There was a huge cheer as Mr Stink appeared at the upstairs window. All he had to do was stand and wave for the crowd to roar their approval. The cameras all zoomed in and the microphones leaned forward. One lady even held her baby up so the infant could catch sight of this new star. Chloe stood a few paces behind Mr Stink, watching like a proud parent. She hadn’t enjoyed being on the television that much and preferred to let Mr Stink take centre stage. He gestured for everyone to be quiet. And there was quiet.
“I have written a short speech,” he announced, before unrolling a very long, grubby toilet roll and reading from it.
“First of all, may I say how very honoured I am that you have all turned out to see me today.”
The crowd cheered again.
“I am but a humble wanderer. A vagrant maybe, certainly a vagabond, a street dreamer if you will…”
“Oh, get on with it!” hissed Mother from behind Chloe.
“Shussshh!” shushed Chloe.
“As such, I had no idea that simply appearing on the electric televisual apparatus would have quite such an astonishing effect. All I can say at this time is that I am meeting with the Prime Minister today at Number Ten to discuss my political future.”
The crowd went wild.
“Thank you all for your incredible kindness,” he concluded, before rolling his toilet roll back up and disappearing from view.
“Miss Chloe?” he said.
“Yes?” she answered.
“If I am meeting the Prime Minister I think I need a make over.”
Chloe wasn’t sure exactly what a ‘make over’ was. She knew there were lots of shows on TV that did make overs, but Mother didn’t allow her to watch them. Feeling like the ugly duckling of the family she didn’t own any make-up either, so tentatively she knocked on her little sister’s door to see if she could borrow some. Annabelle had drawers full of make-up. She always asked for it for her birthday and Christmas, as she liked nothing better than painting it all on and performing her own little beauty pageants in front of her bedroom mirror.
“Has he gone yet?” asked Annabelle.
“No, he hasn’t. Maybe if you bothered to talk to him you would see how nice he is.”
“He smells.”
“So do you,” said Chloe. “Now, I need to borrow some of your make-up.”
“Why? You don’t wear make-up. You’re not pretty, so there’s no point.”
For a moment Chloe entertained a number of fantasies where her little sister met horrific ends. Plunged into a pool of piranhas perhaps? Abandoned in the Arctic wastes in her underwear? Force-fed marshmallows until she exploded?
“It’s for Mr Stink,” she said, filing away all those fantasies in her brain for a later date.
“No way.”
“I’ll tell Mother you’re the one who’s been secretly scoffing her Bendicks chocolate mints.”
“What do you need?” replied Annabelle in a heartbeat.
Later, Mr Stink sat on an upturned plant pot in the shed as the two girls fussed around him.
“It’s not too much, is it?” he enquired.
Unexpectedly enjoying herself, Annabelle had gone a little over the top. Did Mr Stink really need pink glittery blusher, electric-blue eyeliner, purple eye shadow and orange nail varnish to go and meet the Prime Minister?
“Erm…” said Chloe.
“No, you look great, Mr Stink!” said Annabelle, as she attached a butterfly hair-clip to his head. “This is so much fun! It’s the best Christmas Eve ever!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be singing carols in church or something?” asked Chloe knowingly.
“Yes, but I hate it. It’s so boring. This is way more cool.” Annabelle looked thoughtful. “You know, it’s so tedious sometimes doing all those stupid hobbies and sports and stuff.”
“Why do them then?” enquired Chloe.
“Yes, why do them, dear?” chimed in Mr Stink.
Annabelle looked confused. “I don’t know really. I suppose to make Mother happy,” she said.
“Your Mother won’t be truly happy if you aren’t. You need to find the things that make you happy,” said Mr Stink with authority. It was hard to take him seriously though, what with his multi-coloured eye make-up.
“Well…this afternoon has made me happy,” said Annabelle. She smiled at Chloe for the first time in years. “Hanging out with you has made me happy.”
Chloe smiled back, and they nervously held each other’s gaze for a moment.
“What about me?” demanded Mr Stink.
“You too of course!” laughed Annabelle. “You actually get used to the smell after a while,” she whispered to Chloe, who shushed her and smiled.
All of a sudden the shed shook violently. Chloe rushed to the door and opened it to see a helicopter hovering overhead. Engine whirring, it slowly came down to land in their garden.
“Ah, yes. The Prime Minister said he would be sending that to pick us up,” announced Mr Stink.
“Us?” said
