Billy Angel Read Free Page B

We lunged at the lever and moved it the only way it would go – downwards. But with two of us doing it, and all our nervousness, we were a bit too enthusiastic.
    We heard a shriek and a scream from the stage area. And then Thelma appeared above the top of the stage curtain. Way, way too high. She was looming over the hall like a hairy pterodactyl. There was a clunk as she bumped her head on the ceiling lights.
    â€˜My hair’s on fire!’ she screamed. (A total exaggeration, as it was only slightly singed at the ends.)
    â€˜Down!’ someone yelled. ‘Get her down.’
    We were so shocked at what we’d done, that we both let go of the lever and…
Crash
! Thelma dropped like a stone and landed, with a thud, right on top of Captain Hook. It was lucky she did, seeing as she’d fallen from quite a height. It might have been much worse otherwise. Yours truly may well have been writing this from the clink for first-degree murder. But Mr Fothergill didn’t see it as lucky. He was lying in a crumpled heap, groaning softly.
    There was pandemonium. Ambulances were called. The fire brigade arrived. And Thelma had to be restrained from braining Barry and me. We were given a police escort home. For our own protection.

    So a hoodie-angel appearing in my room saying that I was supposed to protect Thelma Potts was just ridiculous. Heck! – It was
me
that needed a guardian angel – for protection from
her
.

Chapter 5
    We’d hardly stepped inside Potts’ Pie Emporium when Thelma clocked me. Eyes blazing, she’d sprung over the counter and come at me, pie slice in hand.
    â€˜You!’ she spat the word like a snake spitting venom at its prey. ‘You’re the one who tried to kill me.’
    Even Dad momentarily lost his smug-plumber smile.
    Thelma towered over both of us, and I felt myself shrinking beneath her murderous glare.
    â€˜Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slice and dice you,’ she bellowed.
    â€˜Because if you do, you’ll never get your sinks unblocked,’ laughed Dad, who’d obviously decided this was all harmless horseplay from joshing school chums…
    With her pie slice still pointing in my direction, Thelma turned on him. ‘Are you the plumber?’
    Dad put out his hand. ‘William Box, at your service.’
    Slowly, she lowered the pie slice and nodded to a swing door at the back of the shop. ‘Through there! Grant the pie chef is waiting for you.’
    Dad nodded cheerfully, swung his bag over his shoulder and followed his nose. Literally. Because coming from that direction was a stink that could have floored a skunk. Even a brainless bloke like me with a totally untrained nose could tell that Potts’ Pie Emporium had a major plumbing problem on its hands. And for once I was extremely glad I was part of the solution. It meant I had a good excuse to put some distance between the scary pie slice and myself.
    Dad sniffed manfully, his nose analysing the pong, rolled up his sleeves and headed for the three stainless-steel sinks to the rear of the kitchen.
    A small, spotty youth was already there, pouring green gunge down the plugholes. ‘It’s just making it worse,’ he said. ‘I’ve no idea what’s causing it.’
    This was obviously Grant the pie chef. ‘I’ve never smelled anything like it,’ he said witha worried expression.
    Dad shook his head. ‘Stop the caustic soda, son, and let me take a look.’
    There are moments when I am extremely proud of my dad. When everyone is at the end of their tether and he shows up at a job with his big bag of tools and his head full of answers, I feel my chest swell and my chin jut out. Suddenly, you can keep your brain surgeons and astronauts. My dad’s the
real
hero. But unfortunately these moments never last.
    â€˜Billy! Stop gawping and get me an eight-foot auger and a force cup.’
    What
? What’s he on about? As