Free The Complete Pratt by David Nobbs Page B

ostrich, and Korky the Cat, and Freddy the Fearless Fly, but Keyhole Kate was horrid. He read out the words to himself with difficulty. Pansy Potter, the strong man’s something.
    Fiona came to visit, with her dull husband, and she came upstairs to see him. ‘It’s daughter,’ she explained. ‘“Pansy Potter, the strong man’s daughter. Pansy’s teeth are cracked and bent, eating a cake made from cement.”’
    ‘That’s Jane Lugg,’ said Henry. ‘And Pam Yardley’s Keyhole Kate.’
    ‘My husband’s Hungry Horace,’ said Fiona.
    Henry couldn’t imagine her dull husband eating a lot, but he made no comment.
    ‘Read me a story,’ he said.
    Fiona read a story about Derek, the wild boy of the woods, an outlaw branded as a traitor by Bagshot, Head of the Secret Service. Derek alone knew that Bagshot was a Nazi spy, and he foiled Bagshot with the aid of Kuru, his eagle pal. At the end of the story, the real British officer congratulated him. ‘“If it hadn’t been for you,” he grinned,’ read Fiona, ‘“this ‘U’ boat would have got away with the secret plans of our new battleships. We owe everything to you and the wonderful eagle you have trained so well.”’
    Henry sighed ecstatically. He would be the wild boy of the woods when he was better.
    ‘How did he grin all that?’ he asked.
    ‘“Grinned” means “said with a grin”,’ explained Fiona. ‘In comics you never say “said”. You say “suggested”, “grunted”, “snorted”, “breathed”, but not “said”.’
    ‘Why?’ queried Henry.
    ‘I don’t know,’ chuckled Fiona. ‘I suppose that’s their style, to make it more exciting.’
    ‘Read me another one,’ demanded Henry, the Boy with the Magic Measle, whose Every Wish was Granted.
    That afternoon made a great impression on Henry, with dark-haired, brown-eyed, flashing Fiona, who smelt so nice, reading stories in her sparkling voice, glad to be free of her evil, greedy husband, whose Artificial Leg Contained Secret Plans of British Battleships.
    When she had gone, Henry decided to learn to read better, to get better quickly, and to rescue Belinda Boyce-Uppingham from her Wicked Family, who were Nazi Spies.
    Pssst!!!! Someone was coming. Who would it be? The foul Bagshot? Pansy Potter, the strong man’s daughter? Or Keyhole Kate, eavesdropping again?
    It was another Kate. Auntie Kate.
    ‘Who’s a lucky boy, then?’ said Auntie Kate. ‘Who’s got pilchards for tea?’
    They gave Henry the option of not going to church on Sunday, as he’d been ill. To their surprise, he chose to attend.
    How he loved her! Who was the man sitting beside her in army uniform?
    ‘That’s Major Boyce-Uppingham, Belinda’s father,’ said Auntie Kate after the service.
    ‘And a Nazi Spy!’ breathed Henry to himself.
    People stood around and discussed the weather, the losses in the Atlantic, the rationing, and their arthritis, but not God. They’d done that part.
    Kit Orris, father of Cyril, approached.
    ‘Now then, Frank,’ he said.
    ‘Now then, Kit,’ said Uncle Frank. ‘It’s right thin and parky, i’n’t it?’
    ‘How’s young Ezra, then?’ said Kit Orris.
    ‘I’m Henry,’ said Henry. He wasn’t going to start being called Ezra out of school. He began to suspect that Kit Orris was Another Nazi Spy.
    ‘How’s t’ blackout, then, Kit?’ said Uncle Frank.
    ‘Well, I didn’t know,’ said Kit Orris, sheep-farmer, sheepishly.
    The story had swept the village. Jim Wallington, who was air-raid warden as well as bus driver, had called out, ‘Put out them lights.’ ‘Lights?’ Kit Orris had said. ‘All t’ lights at back of t’ house.’ ‘Oh. Does tha have to black out t’ back and all?’
    Very suspicious, thought our hero. It sounded to him like a Beacon for Messerschmitts.
    The Nazi Spy Boyce-Uppingham was approaching with his beautiful daughter. The Nazi Spy Kit Orris raised his eyes to heaven and hurried off as if he didn’t want to meet him. That