Hamish and the Terrible, Terrible Christmas Page 5

  On the exact reasons that—

  ‘OH, NO! ME VAN’S OFF! COME BACK! COME BACK! OOF! ME POOR OLD KNEES!’

  Maybe it was just time to get up.

  ‘Well, that was weird,’ said Alice, taking off her coat and walking into Hamish’s house. ‘Everyone’s saying it.’

  She held up a copy of the Starkley Post.

  There was a picture of the Prime Minister in his little blue pants and the headline:

  WELL, THAT WAS WEIRD

  ‘I really don’t think anyone expected the Prime Minister to start showing everyone his pants,’ said Alice. ‘Mum says he’s probably been under a lot of pressure because he was working so hard, but then Dad said that couldn’t be true because he’s a politician.’

  ‘Maybe it’s normal,’ said Hamish, shrugging. ‘I’ve never seen Question Me Silly before. Maybe he always finishes it with a New Pants Dance.’

  ‘That would mean an awful lot of new pants, Hamish. I don’t think grown-ups buy new pants. I think they just wear them until they dissolve in puddles of grown-up sweat. Anyway, the Prime Minister is back in London now, and you know what that means.’

  Hamish looked puzzled. What did that mean?

  ‘It means we’ve got to go there!’ said Alice. ‘You can’t nearly meet the Prime Minister and then not meet him! So I’ve been looking at bus timetables.’

  She pulled out a list of bus times so long it unfurled all the way to her feet.

  Well, thought Hamish, the strange Belgian man in the purple suit did say I should let him know if I was ever in London . . . but he didn’t really mean it, did he? He was just being polite, wasn’t he?

  ‘Now I think we should leave as quickly as possible,’ said Alice, ‘so that we can catch the Prime Minister before he has his tea.’

  Hamish thought about it as he picked up a bag of rubbish to take out to the bins.

  ‘I’m not really sure I’m allowed to go all the way to London on my own,’ he said, opening the door. ‘What with me being ten. You too for that matter.’

  ‘My uncle could pick us up at the station,’ said Alice, following him out. ‘And we could eat a kebab. And you could meet the Prime Minister. And we could see the big city. And we could eat a kebab. And ride on red buses. While eating kebabs.’

  ‘You really want a kebab, don’t you?’ said Hamish.

  ‘But more importantly,’ said Alice, making her most important face, ‘we could go to No. 1 Arcadian Lane and see if we can work out why the blackbird wanted you to go there!’

  Hamish thought about it some more as the morning sun warmed his face.

  ‘I’d have to ask my mum,’ he said.

  ‘We could be back by the evening,’ said Alice, feeling Hamish’s resolve weakening. ‘And you can tell her my uncle will be with us the whole time.’

  But Hamish had a question for Alice. Something that had been troubling him.

  ‘Did you notice anything . . . strange happening during the TV show last night?’

  Alice widened her eyes.

  She held up the photo of the PM in his little blue pants again.

  ‘No – before the New Pants Dance,’ said Hamish. ‘Did you notice a slight rumble?’

  ‘A rumble?’ she said.

  ‘A rumble and then a pop?’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Alice. ‘Sounds like you had some serious tummy trouble.’

  Hamish frowned. So Alice hadn’t noticed the way the room seemed almost to move. Or the spotlights bursting overhead. Or the way the Prime Minister’s eyes had seemed to go empty, hollow, blank . . .

  The last time he’d noticed something that no one else had, the world had been in serious trouble. What if something bad was happening again? Maybe this was all linked somehow? What if this was something to do with the Neverpeople? His dad might need his help!

  ‘What are you two talking about?’ said Buster, wandering up the path with a broom. He had a part-time job clearing away all the broken milk bottles Margarine Crinkle left everywhere. It could have been a full-time job, to be honest. ‘Is this important PDF business?’

  ‘You know there’s no Pause Defence Force since the world stopped stopping,’ said Hamish. ‘We’re just kids again! All that’s at an end!’

  ‘Every end is just another beginning!’ said Alice, who seemed to like that phrase almost as much as ‘be prepared’.

  ‘Who wants to be just kids again?’ said Buster, sadly, leaning on his broom. ‘And anyway we can’t stop being the PDF! What if the world needs saving again? Someone needs to be ready!’

  ‘Yes!’ said Alice. ‘Always be prepared! Have I taught you nothing, by repeatedly saying the same thing over and over?’

  Hamish looked at his friends, and thought about how much they’d achieved together as the PDF. If something strange was afoot, then they were right: someone needed to be ready.

  ‘Let me talk to my mum,’ he said, thinking that maybe – just maybe – a trip to London might not be such a bad idea after all.

  Find out what happens next in

  out February 2016!