The World of David Walliams: 7 Book Collection. David Walliams
and talking and smoking cigars…”
“What do you mean, selfishly?” said Chloe.
“Because I should never have gone. We were caught in a blizzard on the way home. I didn’t get back until just before dawn, and found that the house was ablaze…”
“Oh no!” cried Chloe, not sure if she could bear to hear the rest of the story.
“A piece of coal must have fallen out of the fireplace in our bedroom, and set the carpet alight as she slept. I ran out of the Rolls and waded through the deep snow. Desperately I tried to fight my way into the house, but the fire brigade wouldn’t let me. It took five of them to hold me back. They tried their best to save her but it was too late. The roof fell in. Violet didn’t stand a chance.”
“Oh my God!” Chloe gasped.
Tears filled the old tramp’s eyes. Chloe didn’t know what to do. Dealing with emotions was a new thing to her, but tentatively she reached out her hand to comfort him. Time seemed to slow down as her hand reached his. This made the tears really flow, and he shook with half a century of pain.
“If only I hadn’t been at the club that night, I could have saved her. I could have held her all night, made her feel safe and warm. She wouldn’t have needed the fire. My darling, darling Violet.” Chloe squeezed his dirty hand tight.
“You can’t blame yourself for the fire.”
“I should have been there for her. I should have been there…”
“It was an accident,” said Chloe. “You have to forgive yourself.”
“I can’t. I never can.”
“You are a good man, Mr Stink. What happened was a terrible accident. You must believe that.”
“Thank you, child. I shouldn’t really cry. Not on public transport.” He sniffed, and gathered himself together a little.
“So,” said Chloe, “how you did you end up living on the streets?”
“Well, I was heartbroken. Utterly inconsolable. I had lost my unborn child and the woman I loved. After the funeral I tried to return to the house. Lived alone in a wing that hadn’t been so badly damaged by the blaze. But the house carried so many painful memories, I couldn’t sleep. Being there gave me terrible nightmares. I kept seeing her face in the flames. I had to get away. So one day I started walking and I never came back.”
“I am so sorry,” said Chloe. “If people only knew that…”
“Like I said on the televisual apparatus, every homeless person has a story to tell,” said Mr Stink. “That’s mine. I am sorry it didn’t involve spies or pirates or what have you. Real life isn’t like that, I’m afraid. And I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Christmas must be the hardest time for you,” said Chloe.
“Yes, yes, of course. Christmas is an emblem of perfect happiness I find very hard to bear. It’s a time when families come together. For me it’s a reminder of who’s not there.”
The bus reached their stop, and Chloe’s arm found a home in Mr Stink’s as they walked towards the family house. She was relieved to see that all the reporters and camera crews had moved on. The funny old tramp must be old news by now.
“I just wish I could make everything right,” said Chloe.
“But you are making everything right, Miss Chloe. Ever since you came and talked to me. You’ve made me smile again. You’ve been so kind to me. You know, if my child had ended up like you, I would have been very proud.”
Chloe was so touched she could hardly think what to say. “Well,” she said, “I know you would have made a great dad.”
“Thank you, child. Unimaginable kindness.”
Nearing the house, Chloe looked at it and realised something. She didn’t want to go home. She didn’t want to live with her awful Mother and have to go to that horrible posh school any more. They walked in silence for a moment, then Chloe he took a deep breath and turned to Mr Stink.
“I don’t want to go back there,” she said. “I want to go wandering with you.”
“I‘m sorry Miss Chloe, but you can’t possibly come with me,” said Mr Stink as they stood in the driveway.
“Why not?” protested Chloe.
“For a million different reasons!”
“Name one!”
“It’s too cold.”
“I don’t mind the cold.”
“Well,” said Mr Stink, “living on the streets is far too dangerous for a young girl like you.”
“I’m nearly thirteen!”
“It’s very important you don’t miss school.”
“I hate school,” said Chloe. “Please please please, Mr Stink. Let me come with you and the Duchess. I want to be a wanderer like you.”
“You must think about this properly for a moment, child,” said Mr Stink. “What on earth is your mother going to say?”
“I don’t care,” snapped Chloe. “I hate her anyway.”
“I’ve told you before, you mustn’t say that.”
“But it’s true.”
Mr Stink sighed. “Your mind is made up is it?”
“One hundred percent!”
“Well, in that case, I’d better go and talk to your mother for you.”
Chloe grinned. This was superbrilliantamazing! It was really going to happen. She was going to be free at last! No more being sent to bed early. No more maths homework. No more wearing yellow frilly dresses that made her look like a Quality Street. Chloe was a hundred times more excited than she had ever been in her life. She and Mr Stink were going to wander the world together, eating sausages for breakfast, lunch and dinner, having baths in ponds, and emptying Starbucks wherever they went…
“Thanks so much, Mr Stink,” she said, as she put her key in the lock for the last time.
As Chloe raced excitedly around her room throwing clothes and the chocolate bars she had hidden under her bed into her bag, she could hear faint voices in the kitchen downstairs. Mother won’t care, thought Chloe. She’ll hardly miss me anyway! The only person she cares about is Annabelle.
Chloe looked around her little pink room. Strangely, she felt a tingle of fondness for it now that she was leaving. And she was going to miss Dad, and of course Annabelle, and even Elizabeth the cat, but a new life was calling her. A life of mystery and adventure. A life of making up bed-time stories about vampires and zombies. A life of burping in the faces of bullies!
Just then, there was a gentle knock on the door. “I’m just coming, Mr Stink!” Chloe called out, as she threw the last ornamental owl into her bag.
The door opened slowly. Chloe turned around and gasped.
It wasn’t Mr Stink.
It was Mother. She stood in the corridor, her eyes red from crying. A tear was running down her cheek and a little plastic snowman dangled incongruously above her head.
“My darling Chloe,” she spluttered. “Mr Stink just told me you wanted to leave home. Please. I beg you, don’t go.”
Chloe had never seen Mother looking so sad. Suddenly, she felt a little guilty. “I, er, just thought you wouldn’t mind,” she said.