by Dawn Knox
Red Bull
Previously:
One more sleep before the Wedding of the Century and Crispin is almost at the
end of his tether…
One More Sleep
Sylvester upended a bowl of cornflakes over the sleeping
Crispin. “Well, thank goodness that woke you up at last,” he said picking a
rather large cornflake off Crispin’s shoulder and popping it in his mouth,
“Don’t scowl at me like that, you ought to be thanking me for waking you. I’ve
looked at your diary for today and you’re already behind.”
Reality suddenly caught up with Crispin and he dashed for
the shower. As well as removing all traces of the milk and cornflakes Sylvester
had tipped over him, the water jets cleared Crispin’s head and he began to
remember all the things which hadn’t been done yesterday and that would now
join the extensive list of things to be done today.
Sylvester
hovered uncertainly as Crispin grabbed a piece of dry toast for breakfast. He
obviously felt rather guilty about his messy wake-up call but didn’t know how
to make amends.
“Wendy and
Lulu delivered the rest of the programmes yesterday after they brought you
home,” he said helpfully. “And Wendy said not to worry because she’d definitely
find some flowers for the bouquet today, so you weren’t to panic and Lulu said
she’d be over this morning to help you with everything else…”
“What!”
shrieked Crispin, leaping up, “So she could be here any minute?”
Crispin
hopped down the garden path pulling on a boot. He stopped at the gate and
inspected the boot he was trying to put on.
“Sylvester!”
he yelled as he hopped back up the path, “Where’s my other boot?”
Sylvester
stood at the door with Crispin’s boot, his wedding list, a colander in case he
came under aerial attack by hostile insects, an umbrella in case it rained, a
pack of mustard sandwiches and two pairs of bicycle clips. It seemed he’d
applied a lot of thought to how he was going to make it up to Crispin for his
earlier misdemeanour. And if he was lucky, Crispin wouldn’t insist he did the
laundry this week too. He didn’t fancy picking cornflakes out of Crispin’s
sheets.
He held one
pair of bicycle clips and the boot out to Crispin. “I’ve got the tandem out,”
Sylvester said as he fixed the other pair of clips round his legs and dropping
the items in the wicker basket, he leapt onto the front saddle. “C’mon!” he
said “Let’s go!” as Crispin held the gate open and jumped onto the rear saddle.
“Aargh!”
yelled Crispin, as Sylvester sharply applied the brakes. “I’ve told you before
not to brake so hard. I nearly sailed over your head. Why’ve you stopped?”
“I don’t know
where you want to go first.”
“To the
Fairies at the end of the Garden, by any path that doesn’t go near Nina’s
Toadstool…”
“When I said ‘any path that doesn’t go near Nina’s” Toadstool’, I didn’t
have that sort of route in mind,” said Crispin picking twigs out of his
hair. “And promise me we won’t go home that way. We might not be so lucky
freeing the tandem from that boggy patch a second time.”
“It’d be too hard to go home that way. It’s all uphill. I
can’t imagine what that shopping trolley was doing there, though…”
“No. I don’t know how you missed it. Well done. It’d have
made a nasty dent in the bike… or us.”
Sylvester glowed with pride. At least Crispin assumed he was
glowing with pride. It was hard to tell with all the stinging nettle welts and
dock leaf juice that streaked his face.
“Have you got any more of that dock leaf juice?” Sylvester
asked.
From the perch, in what he thought of as the forest canopy, but was
actually a bough in the apple tree in the woods, Boggy, the zealous Eco-Gnome
was able to see through a gap in the trees into the Fairies’ clearing. It was
fascinating viewing, with glimpses of tiny figures spontaneously bursting into
song and dance. It was certainly different from the last time Boggy had been
there in the middle of some terrible gangland battle. He looked back to the
Fairies and wondered if he’d made a mistake and this was somewhere completely
different. He knew it wasn’t though, because the last time he’d been here, he’d
escaped with the clothes he stood up in and nothing more. Miraculously, the
gang members hadn’t found the shopping trolley that he’d hidden in the
undergrowth, nor the primus stove, hot water bottle or sleeping bag that were
still in the tree. The Garden might seem very different but it was definitely
the same place. He’d had to evict a small, black cat with a pink ribbon around
its neck from the sleeping bag and sustained several puncture wounds and a deep
scratch for his troubles but otherwise, everything else was as he’d left it.
After his previous experiences in this Garden, he began to
wonder at the wisdom of returning but he hadn’t had much luck spreading his
message elsewhere and he had nothing to lose and everything to gain—especially
if he saved the world.
He’d just made the bough as comfortable as he could and was
planning his campaign when he heard a commotion from below. Someone was
screaming “Stop! Stop!” and another voice, equally loud and panic-stricken was
yelling “How? How?”
Boggy watched two figures on a tandem bicycle hurtle into
the clearing beneath his apple tree. Their mud-covered legs were held out
sideways, away from the pedals which were spinning so fast, they were a mere
blur.
“Aargh!” they both yelled, as their course took them through
the middle of a large patch of stinging nettles which Boggy thought might have
slowed them down, but there was no appreciable decrease in speed as the bicycle
raced towards the shopping trolley parked under the apple tree. The rear
passenger spotted the obstacle first and clutched at the driver in panic.
During his solitary Eco-Gnome nights in trees, Boggy had
often wondered whether sound bent around corners and now he saw, or rather heard,
the phenomenon first hand.
The driver’s words, “Hold tight!” came at him head-on, then
as the handlebars were swung to the left, “Hold tight!” seemed to hit him
sideways, finally tailing off as the sound caught up with itself.
Boggy watched in fascination as the fearless riders ground
to a halt some way off and leapt from their saddles. They grabbed handfuls of
leaves and rubbed them over their faces and arms.
Camouflage! thought Boggy with a thrill of
excitement. This was indeed the cutting edge of Eco-warfare. He could learn a
lot from experts such as these.
“Madam, will you please stop screaming!” Crispin said. His eardrums were
rather fragile since the previous day which had been spent with Lulu.
The Fairy stopped shrieking and peered at the two muddy,
twiggy, puffy-faced Elves.
Crispin took the checklist from the bicycle’s wicker basket
and turned to the relevant page.
“What’re you doing?” asked the Fairy suspiciously.
“I’m just checking the flash mob is under control.”
“Of course, it’s under control. We’ve been rehearsing for
weeks. What’s it to you?”
“I’m the Best Elf and I need to make sure everything’s going
to be perfect tomorrow.”
“Well of course it’s going to be perfect tomorrow. We don’t
need you poking your nose in.”
“All right!” said Sylvester, “he’s only doing his job. Don’t
give him such a hard time.”
The Fairy peered at Sylvester.
“Hah!” she said triumphantly, “I thought you looked
familiar. Don’t think all that green stuff on your face will stop me
recognising you! You were the one who caused all that fuss at the pole dancing
lesson.”
“It wasn’t my fault. I was only trying to help…”
“Help like yours, we can do without.”
“Well, anyway, Madam,” said Crispin politely, “if I can just
check on the costumes for tomorrow…”
“Hah! So that’s your game!”
“What game?” asked Crispin, “there’s no game. I just need to
check the costumes.”
“I’m not letting you anywhere near my girls.”
“But I need to know they’ll be dressed appropriately.”
“So you say! Now, be off with you!” The irate Fairy seized
the umbrella from the wicker basket and started menacing the Elves.
“Well, we’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed the
Fairies are dressed, I suppose,” said Crispin as he and Sylvester rode off.
“Where now?” Sylvester called over his shoulder.
“To the Gazebo. I need to check Spanners has delivered the
photo booth.”
To Crispin’s surprise, not only was Spanners at the Gazebo with his
camera but he’d also brought the photo booth as promised.
“You’re here,” said Crispin in wonder.
“Yes, weren’t you expecting me?”
“No, err, yes…” said Crispin, “that is yes but, well, no…”
“Rightio,” said Spanners, “if it’s okay, I’m going to have a
chat with the bride and groom and make sure I cover the whole event as they’d
like. Is that okay?”
“Oh yes!” said Crispin, “Yes, please.”
“Now, I just need the plug socket so I can test out the photo
booth and then I’ll go and find the lucky couple.”
“Plug socket?”
Spanners held up the plug from the photo booth. “Yes, I’ll
just plug it in and make sure everything’s working.”
“Aaargh!” said Crispin.
“I think what he’s trying to say, is that we don’t have a
plug socket outside the Gazebo,” said Sylvester.
“Well, we have two options,” said Spanners, “either we move
the photo booth or we set up the cycle generator.”
“Cycle generator?” asked Crispin.
“We can generate enough electricity to run the photo booth,”
said Spanners.
“We?” asked Crispin.
“You just need a volunteer to cycle while the photo booth is
in operation,” said Spanners.
“Sylvester?” asked Crispin.
“No way, I’ve had enough cycling for one day. I’ve got so
many bruises on my shins from those pedals I’ll be lucky if I can still walk by
tomorrow.”
“Well, can you think of anyone who might be willing?”
“No one’s going to want to spend their time cycling rather
than enjoying themselves at the wedding,” said Crispin, “I suppose I’ll have to
do it myself.”
“Hmm,” said Sylvester thoughtfully, “not necessarily. Just
leave it to me. Now, where’re we off to next?”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Crispin, checking
his watch again, “where is everybody? And suppose the Bird-Gnome doesn’t come?
What if McTavish ordered the wrong birds?”
“Stop panicking,” said Sylvester, “we’re half an hour
early.”
Crispin paced up and down the Sunken Garden. He’d positioned
the lectern from which Bartrum would conduct the ceremony and he’d set out the
chairs for the guests. A large area had been strewn with rose petals ready for
the bride and groom. Nina was afraid that if Doggett got too excited, he might
set fire to a chair so it was agreed the couple would remain standing. Several
buckets of water and several fire blankets were at hand in case, despite his
best efforts, the groom went up in flames or set fire to Nina’s dress.
Crispin moved the lectern slightly to the left, then moved
it back to its original position.
“It’s all perfect,” said Sylvester, “stop fiddling with
things.”
“Don’t sit there!” screeched Crispin as Sylvester started to
sink onto one of the chairs in the front row, “You’re filthy.”
Sylvester leapt to attention. “Don’t shout! And anyway,
you’re just as dirty, so stop touching things.”
Crispin looked down at his muddy legs and groaned. “D’you
think we’ve got time to go home and shower?”
Before Sylvester could reply, Lulu appeared.
“Oh, you poor darling!” She rushed at Crispin and hugged him
tightly, “What happened? You look dreadful!”
“Mwmff,” said Crispin.
“Lulu! Put him down, he’s filthy,” shouted Queenie, “I hope
you’re not planning to turn up tomorrow looking like that!” she added, wagging
her finger at the Elves.
Crispin sucked air into his crushed lungs, grateful that he
hadn’t had time to shower and change. At least now he was off-limits to
Lulu—until tomorrow, anyway. But first, he had to survive the wedding
rehearsal.
When Wendy arrived, she was rather vague about the bouquet
and buttonholes although she assured Crispin he wasn’t to worry. “It will all
be fine,” she said. Crispin decided to call by the Wendy House on his way home
from the rehearsal to check. If he had to comb the Garden for flowers
overnight, so be it. Better that, than the bride finding she had a daisy chain
on her big day.
The Wooden Robin hadn’t been invited to the rehearsal but he
turned up anyway. He didn’t have a role despite his best efforts to volunteer.
In the end, to reward his persistence, Nina had said he could be the Wedding
Robin although she hadn’t been specific about what this entailed. It had been
enough for the Wooden Robin that he had a wedding job title and he hopped
excitedly from foot to foot.
“If that wooden creature doesn’t stop tripping me up, I’m
going to tread on him,” said Queenie grabbing the back of the chair to steady
herself.
“Wooden Robin, I wonder if you could check the, umm, the
wind chimes. Yes, the wedding wind chimes,” said Crispin, “It’s most important
they err, chime. And perhaps while you’re there, you could check the, err,
wind.”
The Wooden Robin hopped excitedly out of the Sunken Garden
just as McTavish arrived with his friend, the Bird-Gnome, and two large
cages—one full of doves and the other containing a single white owl.
Bartrum had been the last to arrive and had immediately
taken over although Crispin could see Queenie and Granny were beginning to get
rather cross at being ordered about. But Bartrum did seem to know what he was
doing and the rehearsal was going well, with everyone in position and no one
missing their cues.
Crispin laid a fire blanket on the ground for the bridal
couple to stand on as Doggett was beginning to char the grass around his feet.
“Now,” said Bartrum, “we need to rehearse the giving of
rings. Who has the rings?”
Everyone turned expectantly to Crispin.
“I haven’t got them” he spluttered, blood draining from his
face.
Doggett patted his pockets. “I don’t think I’ve got them,”
he said, “are you sure you haven’t got them, Crispin?”
“No! You haven’t given them to me yet.”
“Don’t panic everyone,” said Nina fishing in her handbag,
“you don’t think I’d trust anyone with the rings, do you? And there’d be no
point giving them to Doggett, he’d have short-circuited himself with two rings
in his pocket.”
“Well, this is the part where the owl flies in with both
rings in her beak, so Crispin, if you’d carry the rings to the yew tree and
give them to the Bird-Gnome, we can proceed,” said Bartrum.
Crispin was happy to hand them over to the Bird-Gnome to
place in the owl’s beak. He didn’t trust the bird. At first sight, it appeared
to be asleep but when it blinked, Crispin was struck by the vicious look in its
eyes.
Don’t be so fanciful, he told himself, it’s just a bird.
It’s probably upset at being woken during the day.
He realised something was wrong as he walked back to Doggett
and Nina. The owl was behind him but he could see the rest of the wedding
party’s surprised expressions and hear the powerful flap of wings.
“Stop him!” cried Nina, “He’s got our rings!”
“It’s a her, not a him. And stop shouting, you’ll frighten
her!” shouted the Bird-Gnome, “Come on girl, come back, look, I’ve got a lovely
mouse for you… Mavis! Come back, Mavis!”
But with a single backwards glance, in which Crispin was
convinced Mavis was grinning, she flew off.
Nina was screaming. Queenie and Granny were trying to
console her and Doggett was showering the grass with sparks as he ran back and
forth, looking upwards. The Sunken Garden was in uproar.
“Cwithpin! Do thomething!” screamed Wendy.
Crispin sighed.
Everyone turned to look at him expectantly. He was the Best
Elf and it was up to him to rescue the situation. But his mind had gone blank.
Sylvester sidled up to him and out of the corner of his
mouth whispered “Use Pie Skology.”
“How?”
“Like this,” Sylvester whispered. “Now, listen up everyone,
Crispin has an important announcement,” he said loudly.
“I have?” asked Crispin in horror. Granny’s gimlet eyes
bored into him.
“Yes, you have. You were going to say something like ‘Are we
going to let a little thing like some missing rings spoil our wedding day?’
weren’t you?”
Crispin nodded. He wasn’t sure whether this particular Pie
Skology might just backfire but he was completely out of ideas.
A few people looked at him uncertainly, a few shook their
heads. “Yes?” suggested Doggett looking hesitantly at Nina.
“No!” said Sylvester, “Crispin says we are definitely not
going to let the loss of some rings spoil the day. It’s going to be the very
best day of all our lives!”
“Hear, hear!” said Bartrum, banging his gavel on the
lectern.
“Who needs rings?” shouted Lulu.
“Well…” said Nina uncertainly.
“It’s going to be the best day of our lives, rings or no
rings,” shouted Sylvester, “according to Crispin, anyway.”
“Three cheers for the Best Elf!” said Doggett.
Crispin wondered if he was going to faint.
Bartrum called an emergency meeting and explained to all the Garden
Ornaments what had happened during the wedding rehearsal.
“A perfidious bird of prey has purloined the wedding rings…”
“What?” whispered the Wooden Robin.
“A naughty owl stole the rings while you were checking the
wind chimes,” whispered Crispin.
“Outrageous,” squeaked the Wooden Robin, “what is the world
coming to?”
“Well volunteered,” said Bartrum.
“Eh?” squeaked the Wooden Robin, “Who’s volunteered? Why’s
everyone looking at me?”
“Wooden Robin, you are the perfect person for the job,” said
Bartrum.
“I am?”
The Wooden Robin’s delight at being the ‘perfect person for the job’
soon turned to dismay when he realised what he was expected to do.
“But I can’t fly,” he’d explained when Bartrum had told him
he was going to deliver two substitute rings to the bride and groom in place of
the owl.
“Not a problem,” said Bartrum and he instructed Klaus to
install a zip wire from the top of the tall oak tree to the lectern in the
Sunken Garden and to provide the Wooden Robin with a harness.
“Where are the brakes?” squeaked the Wooden Robin. He looked
nervously up to the top of the oak, “And how am I going to get up there?”
“You’ll be hoisted up. Don’t worry. All you’ve got to do is
keep the rings in your beak and then hand them to me when you get down here,”
said Bartrum.
“Couldn’t I just be in charge of the wind chimes?”
But Bartrum had turned away.
“Now, I expect every Garden Ornament to keep a watchful eye
out for the real rings and for the treacherous thief. I am putting up a reward
for the return of the rings and the apprehension of the perpetrator of the
crime.”
The Elves were nearly home when Crispin remembered he’d
forgotten to check on Wendy’s bouquet and buttonholes and that the cage of
doves had been left in the Sunken Garden after the owl fiasco.
“Don’t worry, I’ll sort out the doves. You go and see
Wendy,” said Sylvester.
“Thank you, Sylvester. You’ve been a real help today,” said
Crispin as he turned off to the Wendy House.
“Oh, Cwithpin! How lovely to thee you. Ith Thylvethter with
you?”
“No, he’s sorting out the doves for me but I just wanted to
check you found enough flowers for the bouquet and buttonholes.”
“Well,” said Wendy nervously, “actually, I didn’t. Thothe
fairieth have taken all the flowerth, but I’ve improvithed.”
Crispin began to panic. A bouquet of stinging nettles would
definitely not be good news.
“I made thith,” said Wendy, leading him into her living
room.
“Ooh, Wendy!” said Crispin, “It’s beautiful!”
The bride’s bouquet would have been a sorry sight indeed if
it had simply consisted of flowers and ribbons. The Fairies had certainly
stripped the Garden if these were the only blooms Wendy had been able to find.
But the lack of floral content was eclipsed by the colourful and sparkling
array of sweets that were incorporated into the bouquet. Jewel-like boiled
sweets, foil-wrapped toffees, pastel peach twists of cough candy coated in
sugar were tastefully arranged amongst the flowers and long tendrils of red and
black liquorice coiled round the lengths of pink ribbon.
“I hope it’th all right…” said Wendy hesitantly.
“It’s wonderful, Wendy. You’re so clever.”
Wendy beamed.
“Unfortunately, there weren’t any more flowerth for the bridethmaidth
or the button holeth, tho I made thethe. I hope they’re all right.”
She gently raised a cloth to reveal two posies and dozens of
buttonholes made of colourful lollipops. Each buttonhole lollipop had several
leaves attached as if it were a flower and the posies were spherical
arrangements of lollipops, decorated with bows and lengths of gently coiling
ribbon.
“They’re really lovely,” said Crispin, “I can’t tell you how
pleased I am…”
Wendy blushed.
“Well, tho long ath you don’t hug me. You’re very, very
dirty and quite thmelly.” She wrinkled her nose.
It was time for Crispin to go home and have a long, hot soak
in the bath. There was nothing more he could do tonight and the longest day was
only a few hours away.
About the author
Dawn’s two previous books in the
‘Chronicles Chronicles’ series are ‘The Basilwade Chronicles’ and ‘The Macaroon
Chronicles’ both published by Chapeltown Publishing.
You can follow her here on https://dawnknox.com
on Twitter: https://twitter.com/SunriseCalls
Amazon Author: http://mybook.to/DawnKnox
The Crispin Chronicles
Links to the previous chapters:
Chapter 1 – Her Ladyship’s Garden - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/04/the-crispin-chronicles-1-her-ladyships.html
Chapter 2 – The Letter from OFSGAR - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/search/label/The%20Crispin%20Chronicles%20-%20The%20Letter%20from%20OFSGAR
Chapter 3 -The Sweet Smell of
Success - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/05/the-crispin-chronicles-3-sweet-smell-of.html
Chapter 4 – A Visit from Peggy the
Pram - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/05/the-crispin-chronicles-4-visit-from.html
Chapter 5 – Nightly Disturbances - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/05/the-crispin-chronicles-5-nightly.html
Chapter 6 – Just Desserts - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/05/the-crispin-chronicles-6-just-desserts.html
Chapter 7 – A Little Girl at Large -
https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/06/the-crispin-chronicles-7-little-girl-at.html
Chapter 8 – The Halloween Party - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/06/the-crispin-chronicles-8-halloween-party.html
Chapter 9 – A Glimmer of an Idea - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/07/the-crispin-chronicles-9-glimmer-of-idea.html
Chapter 10 – Doggett Sees the Light
- https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/07/the-crispin-chronicles-10-doggett-sees.html
Chapter 11 – Doggett’s Blues – https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/07/the-crispin-chronicles-11-doggetts-blues.html
Chapter 12 – A Genie out of the
Bottle - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/08/the-crispin-chronicles-12-genie-out-of.html
Chapter 13 – The Christmas Beast - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/08/the-crispin-chronicles-13-christmas.html
Chapter 14 – Bellarella - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/08/the-crispin-chronicles-14-bellarella.html
Chapter 15 – The Stag Omen - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/09/the-crispin-chronicles-15-stag-omen.html
Chapter 16 – The Wedding Carriage - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/09/the-crispin-chronicles-16-wedding.html
Chapter 17 – A Wild Stag Night - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/09/the-crispin-chronicles-17-wild-stag.html
Chapter 18 – Wedding Preparations - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/10/the-crispin-chronicles-18-wedding.html
Chapter 19 – Even More Wedding Preparations - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2021/10/the-crispin-chronicles-19-even-more.html
