Billionaire Boy (17 page)

B
roken. That’s the only word that could describe how Joe’s dad looked. He was standing outside Bumfresh Towers, in his dressing gown. Mr Spud addressed the camera, his eyes red from crying.

“I’ve lost everything,” he said slowly, his whole face shattered with emotion. “Everything. But all I want is my son back. My beautiful boy.”

Then the tears welled up in Mr Spud and he had to catch his breath.

Joe looked over at Bob and his mum. They stood in the kitchen staring at the screen. “What does he mean? He’s lost everything?”

“It was just on the news,” she replied. “Everyone is suing your dad. Bumfresh has made everyone’s bottom go purple.”

“
What
?” replied Joe. He turned back to the TV.

“If you are watching out there, son… Come home. Please. I beg you. I need you. I miss you so much…”

Joe reached out and touched the screen. He could feel tears welling in the corners of his eyes. A little hiss of static danced on his fingertips.

“You’d better go to him,” said Bob.

“Yeah,” said Joe, too shocked to move.

“If you and your dad need anywhere to stay, you are both welcome here,” said Bob’s mum.

“Yeah, of course,” chimed in Bob.

“Thanks so much. I’ll tell him,” said Joe. “Look, I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah,” said Bob. He opened his arms and gave Joe a hug. Joe couldn’t remember the last time anyone had hugged him. It was one thing money couldn’t buy. Bob was a brilliant hugger too. He was all squidgy.

“I’ll see you later, I suppose,” said Joe.

“I’ll make a shepherd’s pie,” said Bob’s mum with a smile.

“My dad loves shepherd’s pie,” replied Joe.

“I remember,” said Bob’s mum. “Me and your dad were at school together.”

“Really?” asked Joe.

“Yes, he had a bit more hair and a bit less money back then!” she joked.

Joe allowed himself a little laugh. “Thank you so much.”

The lift was out of order so Joe raced down the stairs, bouncing off the walls as he did so. He ran out into the car park where Raj was waiting.

“Bumfresh Towers, Raj. And step on it!”

Raj pedalled hard and the trike trundled off down the street. They passed a rival newsagent’s shop and Joe clocked the headlines on the papers in racks outside. Dad was on every front page.

Bumfresh Scandal

There is video content at this location that is not currently supported for your device. Caption for this video is diplayed below.

BUMFRESH SCANDAL said
The Times
.

BILLIONAIRE SPUD FACING RUIN ran the
Telegraph
.

BUMFRESH IS HARMFUL TO BOTTOMS exclaimed the
Express
.

IS YOUR BOTTOM PURPLE? enquired the
Guardian
.

BUMFRESH PURPLE BOTTOM NIGHTMARE! screamed the
Mirror
.

QUEEN HAS BABOON’S BUM claimed the
Mail
.

BUM HORROR yelled the
Daily Star
.

POSH SPICE CHANGES HAIRSTYLE announced the
Sun
.

Well, nearly every front page.

“You were right, Raj!” said Joe, as they sped up the high street.

“About what in particular?” replied the newsagent, as he mopped the sweat from his brow.

“About Bumfresh. It has made everyone’s bottom go purple!”

“I told you so! Did you inspect yours?”

So much had happened since Joe had left Raj’s shop yesterday afternoon he had completely forgotten. “No.”

“Well?” prompted the newsagent.

“Pull over!”

“What?”

“I said, ‘pull over’!”

Raj swerved the Rajmobile on to the verge. Joe leaped off, looked over his shoulder and pulled down the back of his trousers a little.

“Well?” asked Raj.

Joe looked down. Two great purple swollen cheeks stared back at him. “It’s purple!”

Let’s have another look at Raj’s graph. If Joe’s bottom was added to it, it would look like this:

In short Joe’s bum was
very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very…

…
purple
.

Joe pulled up his trousers and jumped back on the Rajmobile. “Let’s go!”

As they approached Bumfresh Towers, Joe saw that there were hundreds of journalists and camera crews waiting outside the gates of his house. As they approached, all the cameras turned to them, and hundreds of flashes went off. They were blocking their entrance and Raj had no choice but to stop the trike.

“You are live on Sky News! How do you feel now your father faces financial ruin?”

Joe was too shocked to reply, but still men in raincoats continued to shout questions at him.

“BBC News. Is there going to be a compensation package for the millions of people around the world whose bums have gone purple?”

“CNN. Do you think your father will face criminal charges?”

Raj cleared his throat. “If I may make a short statement, gentlemen.”

All the cameras turned to the newsagent and there was hushed silence for a moment.

“At Raj’s shop in Bolsover Street I am doing a very special offer on Frazzles. Buy ten packets get one free! For a limited time only.”

The journalists all sighed loudly and muttered their annoyance.

Ding ding!

Raj rang the bell on his trike and the sea of reporters parted, to let him and Joe through.

“Thank you so much!” chirped Raj with a smile. “And I have some out of date Lion Bars at half price! Only slightly mouldy!”

Chapter 26
A Blizzard of Banknotes

A
s Raj pedalled hard up the long driveway, Joe was shocked to see that there was already a fleet of lorries parked up by the front door. An army of bulky men in leather jackets were carrying out all of his dad’s paintings and chandeliers and diamond-encrusted golf clubs. Raj stopped the bike and Joe leaped out of the basket and ran up the huge stone steps. Sapphire was hurrying out in a pair of impossibly high heels, laden with a huge suitcase and numerous handbags.

“Out of my way!” she hissed.

“Where’s my dad?” demanded Joe.

“I dunno and I don’t care! The idiot has lost all of his money!”

As she ran down the steps the heel of her shoe broke off and she took a tumble. The case crashed on the stone floor and broke open. A blizzard of banknotes swirled into the air. Sapphire began screaming and crying, and as mascara ran down her cheeks she leaped up, trying desperately to catch them. Joe looked back at her with a mixture of anger and pity.

He then raced into the house. It was now completely bare of any belongings. Joe fought past the bailiffs and sprinted up the grand spiral staircase. He passed a couple of burly men making off with hundreds of miles of his Scalextric track. For a millisecond Joe felt a pang of regret, but he carried on running and burst through the door to his dad’s bedroom. The room was white and bare, almost serene in its emptiness. Hunched on a bare mattress with his back to the door was his dad, wearing only a vest and a pair of boxer shorts, his fat hairy arms and legs contrasting with his bald head. They had even taken his toupee.

“Dad!” shouted Joe.

“Joe!” Dad turned around. His face was red and raw from crying. “My boy, my boy! You came home.”

“I’m sorry I ran away, Dad.”

“I am so upset I hurt you with all that business with Lauren. I just wanted to make you happy.”

“I know, I know, I forgive you, Dad.” Joe sat down next to his father.

“I’ve lost everything. Everything. Even Sapphire’s gone.”

“I am not sure she was the one, Dad.”

“No?”

“No,” replied Joe as he tried not to shake his head too hard.

“No, maybe not,” said Dad. “Now we’ve got no house, no money, no private jet. What are we gonna do, son?”

Joe reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a cheque. “Dad?”

“Yes, my boy?”

“The other day I was going through my pockets and I found this.”

Dad studied it. It was the one he had written his son for his birthday. For two million pounds.

“I never paid it in,” said Joe excitedly. “You can have it back. Then you can buy us somewhere to live, and still have loads of money left over.”

Dad looked up at his son. Joe wasn’t sure if his father was happy or sad.

“Thank you so much, boy. You are a great lad, you really are. But I am sorry to say this cheque is worthless.”

“Worthless?” Joe was shocked. “Why?”

“Because I have no money left in my bank account,” explained Dad. “There are so many lawsuits against me the banks have frozen all my accounts. I’m bankrupt now. If you had paid it in when I gave it to you, we would still have two million pounds.”

Joe felt a little bit frightened that somehow he had done the wrong thing. “Are you angry with me, Dad?”

Dad looked at Joe and smiled. “No, I’m pleased you didn’t cash it in. All that money never really made us happy, did it?”

“No,” said Joe. “In fact it made us sad. And I am sorry too. You brought my homework to school and I shouted at you for embarrassing me. Bob was right, I
have
behaved like a spoiled brat at times.”

Dad chuckled. “Well, just a little!”

Joe bumjumped along closer to his dad. He needed a hug.

At that moment two burly bailiffs entered the room. “We’ve got to take the mattress,” announced one.

The Spuds offered no resistance, and stood up to let the men carry the last item out of the room.

Dad leaned over and whispered into his son’s ear. “If there’s anything you want to grab from your room, boy, I’d do it now.”

“I don’t need anything, Dad,” replied Joe.

“There must be something. Designer shades, a gold watch, your iPod…”

They watched as the two men carried the mattress out of Mr Spud’s bedroom. It was now completely bare.

Joe thought for a moment. “There is something,” he said. He disappeared out of the room.

Mr Spud moved over to the window. He watched helpless as the leather-jacketed men carried out everything he owned, silver cutlery, crystal vases, antique furniture, everything… and loaded it into the trucks.

In a few moments Joe reappeared.

“Did you manage to grab anything?” asked Dad eagerly.

“Just one thing.”

Joe opened his hand and showed his dad the sad little loo-roll rocket.

“But why?” said Dad. He couldn’t believe his son had kept the old thing, let alone chosen it as the one thing he wanted to save from the house.

“It’s the best thing you ever gave me,” said Joe.

Dad’s eyes clouded over with tears. “But it’s just a loo roll with a bit of another loo roll stuck to it,” he spluttered.

“I know,” said Joe. “But it was made with love. And it means more to me than all that expensive stuff you bought me.”