“It was Mr Smalls who gave me Fingers, and I think everything’s sort of OK, except for the fact that he plans to blow—”
“Who’s Mr Smalls when he’s at home?” demanded Mrs Grunt. “And what does he plan to blow? A raspberry? A kiss?”
“He’s the man whose hat we threw rocks at,” Sunny said. “The one who ended uphanging from the gates of Bigg Manor, and he’s planning to blow—”
“Oh, him,” said Mr Grunt with a raised eyebrow. “Small world.”
“Smalls world, more like,” Mrs Grunt cackled. “I should be a comedian!”
“You’re certainly a joke,” said Mr Grunt.
“Dishcloth!” shouted Mrs Grunt.
“Earwax!” shouted Mr Grunt.
“Knuckle-head!” shouted Mrs Grunt.
“Herring!” shouted Mr Grunt.
That surprised Mrs Grunt. “You’ve never called me a herring before,” she said quietly.
“I meant spongebag, you old spongebag!” said Mr Grunt.
Mrs Grunt seemed satisfied with that, and they carried on name-calling.
Sunny sighed and took Fingers over to a thistle patch to meet Clip and Clop. He knewhe wouldn’t get a word in edgeways when the Grunts were behaving like that, however urgent it was. The donkeys didn’t seem at all bothered by a giant animal with a stretchy nose, and Fingers seem pleased to meet them. He sniffed their faces with his finger-like trunk. So, all in all, Sunny was happy with how that went.
It was then that he noticed a new trailer hitched to the back of the caravan. Not new as in shiny new, but new as in recently made, and new to Sunny. He’d never laid eyes on it before. It was very much in keeping with the caravan itself. It was made in the same style (or lack of style), as in loads-of-old- stuff-badly -put-together.
This must have been what all the hammering and bashing that was going on inside the caravan had been about. But what had MrGrunt built the trailer for? Storing elephant feed? Sunny seriously doubted that Mr Grunt would be that well organised.
“I see you’re admiring my craftsmanship,” said Mr Grunt, appearing at his side. He was wiping what appeared to be mud off one side of his face.
“Very nice,” said Sunny. “What’s it for?”
“What’s it for? What’s it for ? Isn’t it obvious what it’s for?” asked Mr Grunt. He was trying to rub off the mud with an oily rag now.
“Not really, Dad,” said Sunny, “which is why I asked.”
“It’s more of a who than a what,” said Mrs Grunt. She had a mouthful of currant bun, having discovered the sack of them Larry Smalls had left for Sunny to feed Fingers.
“Who?” asked Sunny, wondering whether the “who” in question might actually be him,and that the trailer might be his very first bedroom. Sure, it was small and outdoors, but—
“It’s for Clip and Clop, of course!” said Mrs Grunt. “Now that Fingers is going to pull our home, they can have a well-earned rest.” She stared at Mr Grunt. “What’s that all over your face, mister?”
“The remains of that mud you threw at me, wife!”
Mrs Grunt gave a triumphant leer, showing off her teeth – the yellow and the green ones – to great effect. “I had no idea I was such a good shot.”
“Don’t leer with your mouth full,” grunted Mr Grunt, who’d seen more than enough half-chewed currant bun in hers.
Sunny, meanwhile, was feeling a flood of relief. So the two donkeys would still be partof the family…
Family .
Now, there was a word. Because, in their own strange way, of course, that’s exactly what that odd collection of people and animals was: a family.
“A trailer for Clip and Clop! That’s a great idea,” said Sunny. Then he paused and took a deep breath. It was time to try again. “I know you’re not big fans of helping people, but I really, really think we need to get to Bigg Manor as soon as possible—”
“Why on earth should we do that?” Mrs Grunt interrupted.
“The boy was about to tell us when you interrupted him,” said Mr Grunt.
“Then shut up and let
“Who’s Mr Smalls when he’s at home?” demanded Mrs Grunt. “And what does he plan to blow? A raspberry? A kiss?”
“He’s the man whose hat we threw rocks at,” Sunny said. “The one who ended uphanging from the gates of Bigg Manor, and he’s planning to blow—”
“Oh, him,” said Mr Grunt with a raised eyebrow. “Small world.”
“Smalls world, more like,” Mrs Grunt cackled. “I should be a comedian!”
“You’re certainly a joke,” said Mr Grunt.
“Dishcloth!” shouted Mrs Grunt.
“Earwax!” shouted Mr Grunt.
“Knuckle-head!” shouted Mrs Grunt.
“Herring!” shouted Mr Grunt.
That surprised Mrs Grunt. “You’ve never called me a herring before,” she said quietly.
“I meant spongebag, you old spongebag!” said Mr Grunt.
Mrs Grunt seemed satisfied with that, and they carried on name-calling.
Sunny sighed and took Fingers over to a thistle patch to meet Clip and Clop. He knewhe wouldn’t get a word in edgeways when the Grunts were behaving like that, however urgent it was. The donkeys didn’t seem at all bothered by a giant animal with a stretchy nose, and Fingers seem pleased to meet them. He sniffed their faces with his finger-like trunk. So, all in all, Sunny was happy with how that went.
It was then that he noticed a new trailer hitched to the back of the caravan. Not new as in shiny new, but new as in recently made, and new to Sunny. He’d never laid eyes on it before. It was very much in keeping with the caravan itself. It was made in the same style (or lack of style), as in loads-of-old- stuff-badly -put-together.
This must have been what all the hammering and bashing that was going on inside the caravan had been about. But what had MrGrunt built the trailer for? Storing elephant feed? Sunny seriously doubted that Mr Grunt would be that well organised.
“I see you’re admiring my craftsmanship,” said Mr Grunt, appearing at his side. He was wiping what appeared to be mud off one side of his face.
“Very nice,” said Sunny. “What’s it for?”
“What’s it for? What’s it for ? Isn’t it obvious what it’s for?” asked Mr Grunt. He was trying to rub off the mud with an oily rag now.
“Not really, Dad,” said Sunny, “which is why I asked.”
“It’s more of a who than a what,” said Mrs Grunt. She had a mouthful of currant bun, having discovered the sack of them Larry Smalls had left for Sunny to feed Fingers.
“Who?” asked Sunny, wondering whether the “who” in question might actually be him,and that the trailer might be his very first bedroom. Sure, it was small and outdoors, but—
“It’s for Clip and Clop, of course!” said Mrs Grunt. “Now that Fingers is going to pull our home, they can have a well-earned rest.” She stared at Mr Grunt. “What’s that all over your face, mister?”
“The remains of that mud you threw at me, wife!”
Mrs Grunt gave a triumphant leer, showing off her teeth – the yellow and the green ones – to great effect. “I had no idea I was such a good shot.”
“Don’t leer with your mouth full,” grunted Mr Grunt, who’d seen more than enough half-chewed currant bun in hers.
Sunny, meanwhile, was feeling a flood of relief. So the two donkeys would still be partof the family…
Family .
Now, there was a word. Because, in their own strange way, of course, that’s exactly what that odd collection of people and animals was: a family.
“A trailer for Clip and Clop! That’s a great idea,” said Sunny. Then he paused and took a deep breath. It was time to try again. “I know you’re not big fans of helping people, but I really, really think we need to get to Bigg Manor as soon as possible—”
“Why on earth should we do that?” Mrs Grunt interrupted.
“The boy was about to tell us when you interrupted him,” said Mr Grunt.
“Then shut up and let
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