Olive of Groves and the Great Slurp of Time (15 page)

27

In which the circus becomes a circus

If Wordsworth had not lost his dictionary two weeks ago in an unfortunate incident involving a Wicked Pig and a blazing fire, he might be able to tell you that the word ‘circus' has several meanings. Allow me, dear reader, to share two of these right now:

1. C
IRCUS
– a group of people and animals who travel from place to place to perform acts of skill, bravery and tomfoolery.

2. C
IRCUS
– a situation that descends into chaos.

However, I am running ahead of myself . . .

Olive dashed into the garden, late for her circus lesson. Mrs Groves had presented her with a gift – the ugliest cardigan on earth. It was yellow and purple with three sleeves, seven pockets of assorted size and location and six
misaligned buttons. There was even a worm knitted into the waistband. It had taken Olive ten minutes to work out how to wear it, but once she decided to wrap the third sleeve around her neck like a scarf, the rest could be arranged without too much difficulty.

‘Good morning, Olive!' Sparky Burns flew through the air on the back of the dragon. The dragon dipped her wing, winked and exhaled a puff of smoke in the shape of a heart.

Olive giggled.

‘Morning, Olive!' Jabber ran past juggling five knives. Their blades flashed in the sunlight as they spun around above Jabber's head and returned to his hands. It looked dreadfully dangerous. Almost as bad as running with scissors. And we all know how dangerous that is!

‘Greetings again, fair Olive!' Samuel the servant boy ran by, holding a pair of big brass scissors. The gardener's hedge clippers were shoved down the back of his knickerbockers. ‘Nice cardigan!'

‘Hello, Olive!' The Venus flytrap smiled and snapped her spiky jaws from the vegie patch. She was watering a row of Venus flytrap seeds she had just planted between the cabbages and onions. ‘Couple of weeks!' Venus cried, waving the seed packet in the air.

‘Good grief,' sighed Olive.

‘Roll up! Roll up! The circus is in town!' shouted the Ringmaster through his megaphone. ‘Roll up! Roll up, School Captain! Don't keep us waiting!'

Olive bunny-hopped past Bullet Barnes' new cannon, across the garden towards the horses and acrobats.

‘Dear Olive,' cooed Anastasia. ‘Do stand here beside me on this sunny morn.'

Anastasia was wearing a long yellow nineteenth-century ball gown. Her hair was swept up into a bun and delicate pearls dangled from her ears. She waved a fan before her face and smiled politely.

‘Where's your unitard, Anastasia?' asked Eduardo.

‘How are you going to do equine acrobatics in a ball gown?' asked Alfonzo.

‘And why are you being nice to me?' asked Olive.

‘Silly,' giggled Anastasia, slapping Olive playfully with her fan. ‘A
lady
is always polite and friendly.'

‘Yes,' agreed Eduardo. ‘But you're not a lady.'

‘You're an acrobat,' said Alfonzo.

Anastasia blushed. ‘Oh no, dear sirs! I am most definitely a lady and shall fling my arms and legs around in such shameless displays no more.'

And without further explanation, she wandered across to the garden bench, where she sat with her hands folded in her lap and nodded sweetly at everyone who looked her way. It was most unnatural.

Six bold red uppercase letters drifted before Olive's eyes:
B-E-W-A-R-E!

She rubbed her knuckles against her eyes, but the letters flew past again:
B-E-W-A-R-E!

‘Equine acrobatics!' cried the Ringmaster. He slapped his boot with his riding crop, then blushed a little as he surveyed the small crowd before him. For the horses and acrobats had been joined by Bozo, Boffo, Clara the cow, Glenda the goose, Fumble the moose, Cracker the parrot, the peg-legged pirate and Helga the hippo. Olive's spectacular performance at yesterday's Elizabethan jousting tournament had become the talk of the school and these students now wished to experience a little equine acrobatic action for themselves. Although, really, it would be more accurate to say that Bozo, Boffo and Clara were
eager to try
bovine
acrobatics, Glenda and Fumble were keen to attempt
moosine
acrobatics, and Cracker and the peg-legged pirate were bursting to try out three brand-new swear words they had invented at breakfast time. Helga the hippo was just there, as hippopotami so very often are.

‘Roll up! Roll up!' cried the Ringmaster. ‘Fall into position. Gallop, leap, spiral, flip, fly and entertain! Let us practise a performance that will have my veins throbbing with adrenalin and my heart singing for joy!'

Star smiled, tossed her mane and willingly trotted forward. Olive was astonished, but did not make a fuss. She simply mounted her steed (with a little huffing and heaving on her part and a helpful bending of the knees on Star's part) and galloped
around the garden. On the second lap, they were joined by Beauty bearing Alfonzo and Eduardo, and Fumble with Glenda perched on his antlers. On the third round, they were joined by Bozo and Boffo jiggling up and down on Clara's rump. Bozo was juggling four leftover crumpets from breakfast. Boffo was sobbing, tears splashing from his eyes in great dollops.

The peg-legged pirate and Cracker the parrot had hoped to ride Helga the hippo into the fray, but Helga had other ideas. Cracker sat on the pirate . . . the pirate sat on Helga . . . and Helga sat in the birdbath at the precise
moment that Splash Gordon dived from the upper branches of an oak tree into the very same vessel.

Long story short, the birdbath, the pirate's wooden leg and Splash Gordon's nerves were all shattered. Cracker got to use his three new swear words in a completely spontaneous manner and Helga got a shard of terracotta from the birdbath lodged in a very awkward spot.

Star, Beauty, Fumble and Clara continued to gallop side by side around the garden.

‘Four beasts astride!' cheered the Ringmaster, waving his top hat in the air. ‘What a marvellous opportunity. Show me your talent, your bravery, your creativity.'

Olive sprang to her feet, her knees wobbling like jelly. Star kept a smooth and predictable gait. She even avoided the fish pond and the hanging tendrils of the spiky bougainvillea vine.

Olive stretched her arms out wide, lifted her chin and felt the jelly leave her knees. ‘Wheeeee!' she sang, blazing across the garden on Star's back. ‘Look at me!'

‘Wheeeee!' sang Sparky and the dragon, swooping overhead. ‘Look at Olive!'

Alfonzo leapt from Beauty to Star. He tossed Olive into the air, where she was caught by Eduardo and planted on Beauty's back. Olive gasped, slipped a little, then made her
stance sure once more. Eduardo kissed her on the cheek, waited until Beauty galloped underneath a tree, then leapt up into the branches.

‘Look at me! Look at me!' cried Olive as she blazed across the garden on Beauty's back.

Sparky and the dragon twirled through the sky, writing
HOORAY!
with smoky dragon breath.

Olive threw her head back and laughed. The wind rushed by, tugging at her hair. She felt wild and free and ever so clever.

Bozo and Boffo leapt from Clara the cow to Beauty and tossed Olive away. She spun through the air like a corkscrew and landed on Clara.

‘Look at me! Look at me!' cried Olive as she jiggled across the garden on Clara the cow.

Sparky and the dragon performed a congratulatory loop the loop above her head.

Fumble the moose galloped up to her side, Glenda clinging to his antlers. ‘Now me!' he called, squinting, smiling. ‘Jump to me!'

Olive leapt, all by herself, and landed gracefully on Fumble's back. What an achievement!

‘Sensational!' bellowed Fumble, and he ran into a lamp post.

Both Olive and Glenda the goose were flung willy-nilly, topsy-turvy, goosey-loosey, into the air. Mercifully, Olive landed in the long grass by the back fence. But Glenda, all feathers and down, collided with the dragon, right beneath his wing.

Oh dear!

An armpit full of feathers!

‘Hee hee hee!' shrieked the dragon. ‘That tickles! Hee hee hee!' She giggled and snickered and laughed. Flames spurted uncontrollably from her nostrils, baking the apples on the trees, setting fire to the rotunda, scorching the crocuses and lighting the fuse of Bullet Barnes' cannon.

Unfortunately, Bullet and Carlos were not quite ready for blast-off. Carlos had joined Bullet in the barrel, trying to remove an English prisoner of war from 1942 who had mysteriously appeared in the garden and mistaken the cannon for an escape tunnel.

KABOOM!

Carlos, Bullet and Lieutenant Harold Fogmire of the Seventh Artillery were blasted out of the cannon. Oddly enough, they travelled in three completely different directions.

Carlos shot across the garden, knocking Diana the lion tamer off her feet. Num-Num screeched with delight, grabbed Diana's whip and ate it. ‘Num-num-num-num-num-num-num!'
Pressing her scaly green face into Diana's, she growled, ‘Num-Num don't like being tamed,' and ran off to chase the postman.

Lieutenant Harold Fogmire of the Seventh Artillery flew over the fence and into the street. He landed on his feet and started running. He ran for his life. He ran for freedom. He ran and ran until he vanished back to 1942 and collided with a prison guard. It was very disappointing, just when he thought he was free. But nobody ever said that war was a barrel of laughs.

Bullet Barnes tumbled along the grass until he collided with a large drum of Speedy Grow Liquid Fertiliser. The drum rocked back and forth, back and forth, then toppled and spilled, flooding the entire area in which Venus had just sown her Venus flytrap seeds.

The Ringmaster shuddered. ‘How simply awful!' he cried.

Although I am not sure whether he was talking about the dangers of over-fertilising, the disasters which had occurred in the middle of his circus lesson, or the fact that Samuel the servant boy had just used the hedge clippers to snip off the right-hand curl of his moustache.

Whatever it was, the Ringmaster was overwhelmed by grief. He threw himself face-down onto the grass and sobbed into the sleeve of his red jacket. ‘I just want to see a
normal
circus for once . . . where everything runs to plan.'

And
I
want thick eyelashes and a holiday house in the Greek islands.

Unfortunately, we cannot always get what we want.

28

A very short chapter in which a wheelbarrow is put to good use

Olive lay where she had landed, in the long grass by the back fence. ‘Aaaah,' she sighed. ‘Peace at last.'

‘Excuse me!' Tiny Tim shoved her aside and started ripping the palings off the fence. ‘They're for making my Viking longboat,' he explained. ‘I'm going to sail across the ocean and invade Ireland.' He adjusted the fur cloak around his shoulders and smiled at her.

‘How fascinating,' said Olive.

And instead of being
DULY ALARMED
in bold red uppercase letters, our heroine spent the rest of the morning helping Tiny Tim to rip down the fence and build the carcass of his longboat. It was, after all, a fun and exciting project, and one grows rather weary of being the only responsible creature in an entire school.

Olive did not panic when Tiny Tim grabbed a bommy-knocker and headed off to plunder the lolly shop.

Not even when he returned with a horned helmet on his head and a wheelbarrow piled high with sweets.

Well, perhaps she was beginning to feel a
little
uneasy. But the sight of a wheelbarrow piled high with sweets is enough to drive niggles from the most anxious of minds.

In fact, a quarter of an hour later, her mouth full of liquorice, her hands full of musk sticks and the seven pockets of her cardigan full of lemon sherbets, our heroine had not a care in the world.

A further three minutes on, however, things were not looking so good.