“Joe! Hey, Joe! You all right? Please don’t be dead, Joe, please don’t be dead!”
“Okay everybody, rise and shine! We’re going on a trip!” Mr. Smyle was marching up and down the corridors, banging on doors and clapping his hands. “Come on Miss Sleepyhead” he called to Alice who was dying somewhere under the bedclothes, still fully dressed and rather damp from the night before. “Wakey Wakey!”
It was impossible for anyone to bear up under such cheerful bluster. “Where are we going?” Miles asked as Mr. Smyle barged past him, sporting a bright orange blazer and a yachting cap.
“We, young man, are going to Australia!” And he swept into Joe and Odi’s room and overturned the mattress. “I want everybody up, showered, dressed and breakfasted by eight o’clock sharp. Not seven fifty-nine, not eight-o-one. Eight hundred hours on the dot or I’ll keelhaul the lot of you.”
“Australia!?” cried Joe. “We’re going to see Mum and Dad!” Fizzing with excitement, he ran up to the attic to tell Roots – but there was no sign of him. In fact, the room had been completely emptied and the bed stripped.
“Roots?” said Joe, bewildered. “Where’s Roots!?” he yelled down the stairs. “I can’t find Roots!” Then he started shouting “Ro-oots! Roo-oots! Roots, where are you!?”
“Stop that stupid noise!” snapped Mr. Smyle. “Your friend Roots has gone and that’s all there is to it!”
“Roots wouldn’t go without telling me!” said Joe.
“Well he did!” replied Mr. Smyle shortly. “That’s the trouble with you, Joe – when it comes to people, you have no discernment whatsoever. Perhaps you’ll choose your friends more wisely in future. Now hurry up and get ready. Anchors away at noon!” Then he started singing ‘A Life on the Ocean Waves’ at the top of his loud but tuneless voice.
Joe pulled on his clothes hurriedly and charged through the mansion, out of the front door and over the perfectly manicured lawns until he reached the wood. “Roots!” he kept calling as he ran, “Roots!”
By the time he reached the woodland, hot tears were scalding his cheeks and he kept yelling even louder. “Roots, you’ve got to be here, please, please, answer me!” Suddenly, a head popped up from a hole near a giant sycamore.
“Can’t a chap have forty winks?” said Roots, blinking in the sun. Joe threw himself onto the ground and grabbed Roots by the hair. “Roots! What are you doing here? We’re all going away to Australia and you’ve got to come with us!”
“Calm down,” Roots winced as Joe’s fingers dug into his scalp. “Hang on a sec while I get out of this hole. Now” he said, after he emerged, his white outfit muddy and green. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s to do.”
Joe explained about the trip and how he hoped they’d find his parents. “But I’m not going without you!” he determined.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to, Squire.” Roots said, gently. “Mr. Smyle just doesn’t want me around anymore.”
“But why, though?” begged Joe.
“Well, fact is, I don’t belong in places like this. Why, it’s all I could do to live in a house, let alone a castle, like being in prison all the time, and I only stayed as long as I did ‘cos of you anyway! You’ll be all right. Once you’ve found your parents, you’ll forget all about me.”
“No, I won’t! I’ll never forget you, Roots. Please, please come with us!” But the young man shook his head.
“Mr. Smyle won’t allow it.”
“Then I won’t go either!” sobbed Joe. “It just won’t be the same without you!”
“I’ll miss you too, Joe, but there’s nothing else for it, don’t you see? You and me, we’re just two tiny atoms floating about in the universe, ebbing and flowing with no say whatsoever, and we’ve just got to accept it.”
“What will you do?” Joe sniffed.
“Oh, I’ll probably go back to the forest. I’ll be happy there, ‘cos it’s where I belong, see?”
“But if you go, I’ll have nobody….” Overcome with self-pity, Joe’s nose began to run, and he wiped it with his sleeve.
“Now, Joe, that’s not true and you know it. What about Alice and Miles and Laurel? And, there’s always Mr. Smyle!”
“I hate him!” growled Joe.
“Now, now, let’s have none of that. hate is not a word in our vocabulary. Mr. Smyle may have his shortcomings like anybody else, but, if he’s helping you find your parents, then he can’t be all bad now, can he? He’s just not very keen on misfits like me. And he’s not alone there.”
“But you don’t have any of your things!” protested Joe.
Roots snorted with derision. “Things! Things don’t amount to squat, Joe. All they do is tie you down.”
“Well, I blame people,” said Joe, bitterly. “Especially grown-ups who make you do what they want all the time, and then when it’s anything you want, they let you down. Even parents!”
The young man’s face clouded for a moment. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t know about that, you see, not having had parents myself. But I’m sure they’re a very good thing …..in moderation, of course.”
“I’m sorry, Roots. I didn’t know.” Joe took on the role of comforter, patting Roots’ shoulder.
He was rewarded by Roots’ enormous grin. “Know what, Joe? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, bar none. But hey, you’d better get back now, or Mr. Smyle will send his dogs after you. Keep your head up, hold a good conscience, and remember – don’t let anyone make you do anything you don’t want to.”
The young man gave Joe a friendly punch. Then with a final “See you at Fernilee!” Roots jumped into the hole and vanished from sight.
“Bye, Roots,” Joe murmured sadly, then he closed his eyes and whispered: “Please Mr. Big, if you’re listening, please, please take care of him…..”
“And just who’s this Mr. Big, young man?” Joe spun round to see Mr. Smyle standing in the shadows. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce me? Is he still here? Let’s find him, shall we?” He started whacking the bushes with his cane. “Mr. Bi-ig! Mr. Bi-ig! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
“I was looking for Roots,” said Joe, riled by Mr. Smyle’s teasing, “but he’s not here.”
“You can say that again – he’s been away with the pixies for a good while – and so will you be if you keep talking to yourself. Anyway, come on, we’ve a long journey ahead of us. After all, with that nasty Prism on the loose, we need to get you away from here as soon as possible.”
An hour later, Mr. Smyle’s helicopter was landing on the deck of his incredible yacht – the ‘Ocean of Smyle’s’ – the fastest and biggest ship ever built; large enough for a couple of football pitches!
The body was built entirely from a specially-developed, shiny black alloy and had angles so sharp it could cut through the ocean like a knife, while the interiors were high-tech and minimalist with smoked glass panels and touch-button features.
“Wow!” Miles gasped. It looks like a space ship!”
“This is the world’s fastest yacht,” Mr. Smyle boasted, “yet inside, it offers all the comforts of the most luxurious five-star hotel!” Odi, the Hadwins and Laurel had their own suites and, of course, closets already crammed full of fabulous new clothes, flown in that day to save time packing.
“Wherever you go, travel light,” advised Mr. Smyle. “then you never have to worry about forgetting anything.”
“I think I’ve left my head behind!” groaned Alice. She really wasn’t at her best. “Must be the champagne.” To her great dismay, someone had thought to bring her party dress along, and it lay across her bed as a painful reminder of the previous night’s humiliations.
“You certainly supped a magnum or two!” Mr. Smyle chortled. “But, hey, who’s counting!?”
“If Mum and Dad were here, you’d be grounded for the next ten years!” remarked Miles sternly.
“Just as well they’re not here then, isn’t it?” Mr. Smyle turned to Alice and smiled conspiratorially. “You do whatever you like, young lady, and don’t let anyone spoil your fun.”
Unfortunately, Alice wasn’t in the mood for fun. For the next few days, she barely left her cabin, moping and listening to dreary music about lost love and depressing stuff like that. Laurel and the boys kept trying to cheer her up, but nothing could shake her out of her misery. She simply didn’t want anyone around.
Mr. Smyle was philosophical. “She’ll get over it,” he said. “plenty more fish in the sea.” It was easy for him to talk, he didn’t have to put up with her, seeing as he kept flying off in his helicopter for days at a time.
After one of these trips, Mr. Smyle had hardly touched down on the helipad before summoning the children into his enormous boardroom, which was strictly out of bounds when he wasn’t there.
“I’ve some excellent news!” he declared. “I’ve finally managed to contact your parents and am waiting for them to telephone within the next hour! Isn’t that wonderful!? Make yourselves comfortable and we’ll all wait together for their call.”
They waited and waited and waited, until at last, Mr. Smyle’s telephone rang and he switched on the conference button so everyone could hear. The voice sounded faint and weary, but it was unmistakably that of Jennifer Hadwin.
“Hello children….”
“Mum!” Alice, Miles, and Joe cried out joyfully. “Mum! Where are you?!”
“I’m all right,” came the reply. “How are you?”
“We’re fine, Mum?” shouted Alice, trying hard not to cry. “Is Dad with you?”
“Yes,” the voice replied. “He’s here with me. How’s Mr. Smyle?”
“He’s been really kind to us!” said Alice, “He takes us everywhere with him….”
“And I’m his financial adviser!” Miles added proudly.
Joe did his best to butt in but was drowned out by the excited reports by his older brother and sister as they related all the things they’d had and done since coming under Mr. Smyle’s protection.
“When will we see you?” he kept saying and was at last rewarded.
“Soon,” Mum promised. “Very soon. Do whatever Mr. Smyle says and we’ll all be together very soon. I promise.”
“Is Dad better now?” asked Alice, “Can we speak to him?”
At that moment the line started crackling and Mr. Smyle started fiddling with the buttons, trying to tune in. “Jennifer, you’re breaking up…..Hello? Hello? Can you repeat that?”
The Hadwin children groaned with frustration, praying for the line to clear but, after crackling even more ominously for a moment or two, the line went dead. Mr. Smyle sighed. “I’m sorry, people – but at least you’ve had some contact. And, don’t worry, I’ll find another connection, very soon. Besides, we’re on our way now, so you’ll be seeing your parents in person before long.”
Buoyed up by this prospect, the children could hardly wait to reach their destination but, considering the Ocean of Smyle’s was the fastest ship in the world, their journey seemed painfully slow. “When will we reach Australia?” Joe kept asking. “Ahh well, there’s a bit of a problem” the Captain would say. “Hurricane Shirley’s on the move. We have to go steady.” And every time Joe enquired about Australia, the Captain and his crew would mumble, “Hurricane Shirley,” again, until the boy grew sick of it and gave up asking.
And, on the whole, the voyage was enjoyable, punctuated by visits to paradise islands where they’d be greeted by friendly folk in colourful clothes. Strangely, the yacht never anchored in any mainland ports – only those populated by very few people and sometimes none at all.
“Oh no!” Laurel sighed, “not more white sands and coral reefs!”
“But it’s perfect!” said Odi.
“That’s the trouble. It’s a little too perfect,” Laurel replied.
Joe knew what she meant. Every time they came ashore, the local inhabitants were waiting with flowers, food, and radiant smiles. It all seemed…..
“Like it’s been choreographed,” said Laurel.
The plain fact was, visiting one gorgeous beach after another got boring in time, especially for two lively 11-year olds with no online games to keep them occupied, Joe and Odi spent much of their time in the galley. Henrico, the head chef, who liked children, gave them a crash course in cordon bleu, in which Odi particularly shone, but when Mr. Smyle was aboard, the staff were far too busy catering to their boss’s exacting demands. “I got you a present!” Henrico said, handing a tastefully wrapped package to Joe. “My mother sent it for you. You boys learn to spell good, now, ey?” It was a magnetic Scrabble kit, ideal for playing when the sea got choppy. “You can stick the board and letters on the fridge, look!”
These letters kept the boys happy for some time and in the course of their play, Odi discovered something quite astounding. “Hey!” he exclaimed, “If you put the ‘s’ from Miles at the front, it spells ‘Smile’. Let’s see how many words we can make using all our names.”
Alice became ‘Celia’, Laurel became ‘Ruella’, and Miles also became ‘Slime’, much to the boys’ amusement.
So absorbed did they become with this task, they barely noticed when the helicopter arrived. Nor did they look up as Mr. Smyle’s heavy frame appeared in the doorway. Unusually, he didn’t call out to them straightaway; he just stood quietly, observing their game as he tapped the top of his cane against his chin, his eyes fixed upon the words taking shape on the refrigerator door.
“Well boys!” he jibed. “Have you nothing better to do than clutter up the galley?”
“Mr. Smyle!” Odi yelled and ran to his benefactor, genuinely pleased to see him. But the man ignored him, focusing instead at Joe, whose white head stayed stubbornly turned away.
“Guess what I’ve just seen?” he announced, “Dozens of them, following the ship! Leaping up and down, they are, flapping their flippers and flashing their fins. Quickly! Go and have a look!”
“Dolphins! Yay!” Odi and Joe scampered up onto the highest deck.
“That’s right! Leave everything for others to tidy up!” Mr. Smyle called after them with mock indignation and, when the boys flew past him, knocked all the magnetic letters off the fridge with his cane. “I can’t stand mess!” he tutted, then gestured to Henrico to sweep the offending items away.
The stern of the ship was deserted except for Odi and Joe who ran to the railing, then leaned over as far as they could to scan the sea.
“There they are!” yelled Odi, pointing frantically.
Joe stepped up onto the next rung of the railing, leaning forward even further. “I can’t see anything,” he said.
“I can!” said Odi “Look! Big black shapes under the water!” He too levered himself into an increasingly precarious position, continuing to shout excitedly. “Look! There! Can’t you see it…..?”
Suddenly, the whole railing gave way! Before they knew what was happening, Joe and Odi were pitched headlong into the swelling seas a 100 metres below!
Odi rose to the surface first. Due to the height of the fall, he had plunged deeply into the water and it took several moments for him to emerge, lungs bursting for air. All he could hear was the churning of a huge propeller powering the ‘Smyle of the Ocean’ into the distance. The sight of it rapidly shrinking from view brought Odi to his senses with a sickening jolt.
He swivelled frantically in the water, looking for Joe, calling his name over and over again. “Joe! Joe!” Getting no answer, he began to panic. “Please, please, please don’t leave me on my own! JOE! If you’re alive somewhere please answer me!”
At last, he saw the top of a white-gold head appear and yelled with relief. “Joe! Hey, Joe! You all right? Please don’t be dead, Joe, please don’t be dead!” Clumsily, Odi doggy-paddled towards his friend and grabbed him by the neck, holding his head above the water. To his great relief, Joe spluttered and took several long, deep breaths.
“Can you believe that?!” Odi exclaimed. “The boat’s gone off without us. What are we going to do?”
Frantically, he looked around him, hoping to see something, anything on the horizon. “Oh, this is bad,” he cried, “this is very bad. But mustn’t panic. Try to think. You okay, Joe?” he asked again, but Joe was motionless.
“We could swim, yes, that’s what we could do. We’ll swim to Australia. After all, it’s only about 2,000 miles away!’
‘Or there again, maybe not. Maybe we should just float, save our strength while we think of something.”
Floating wasn’t quite as easy as it looked. Every time Odi tried, his legs seemed to sink from under him.
“Joe!” he cried, “Joe, are you okay? Answer me, Joe! Please don’t be dead!” Joe wasn’t dead. After a while, his lips began to move. “You talking to me?” Odi asked.
“No. Mr. Big.”
“Who? You mean the Mr. Big? Up there in the sky?” “I’m asking him to help us,” Joe replied.
“Like praying, you mean? Hey, that’s not a bad idea.” And Odi began to shout, “Hey, Mr. Big? You up there? In case you can hear me, just wanted you to know there are two kids down here who could use a little help!”
Hardly had the words been spoken when he spied a large, inky blue fin. “What’s that!?” he yelped, and another fin appeared, streaking towards them. “Hey, Joe, I think we’ve got company!
‘Sharks!”
The very name jerked Joe into action. “Where?” he cried.
“Coming straight for us!” replied Odi. “Is that the best your Mr. Big can do? Well, thanks, thanks a lot, Mr. Big! Huh! That’ll teach me to pray! Like I’m ever going to talk to you again! What am I saying?! I’m never going to talk to anyone again! Like I’ll be dead! Nothing more than an Odi nugget with hot chilli sauce!” He began to flail around desperately, screaming at the top of his voice “Help! Help!”
By now, there were several creatures, all 10 feet long at least, and they circled round the boys curiously. “Don’t splash!” cried Joe “you’ll make them angry!”
“You mean they might attack us!? Oh boy, why didn’t I think of that!?” Odi squealed as one of sharks brushed past him. Another shark swam under Joe and seemed to be nudging him from underneath.
“What are they doing?” he said. The shark kept swimming round and bumping into the boy as if trying to tell him something. Instinctively, Joe grabbed hold of its fin and found himself being carried on the creature’s back.
“Wow!” he cried, “Odi, look!” The shark swam inches under the water, slowly enough for Joe to keep a grip. “They want to give us a ride. You try, Odi.”
Odi hadn’t much choice, because another shark was nudging him from underneath. In desperation, he held onto the creature’s fin and was immediately propelled through the water. Once their passengers were safely aboard, the two sharks set off side by side, skimming through the water.
Far in the distance, a ruddy faced man with silvery whiskers scratched his head.
“Must be this telescope!” he thought and rubbed the lens against his sleeve before drawing it up to his eye again. To his astonishment, the view remained the same – two boys in the middle of the ocean, thousands of miles from anywhere, surfing along on their bottoms! And they seemed to be heading for him! “Ahoy there!” he bellowed.
“Ahoy!” came the response, and the boys waved back. “Well, shiver me timbers!” the old sea dog exclaimed. “Climb aboard, me hearties!”
About twenty yards from his vessel, the boys sank into the water as their transport dropped them off. “Goodbye Sharks!” they cried, “Thanks for the lift!” and started to swim towards The Mersey May where its owner, Captain Catastrophe, hauled them onto the deck.