Free Olive of Groves and the Great Slurp of Time by Katrina Nannestad Page A

travel so that he could further refine his Dark and Devious Plan.
    Olive giggled nervously. She really wanted to cry, but sometimes when we are overwhelmed, our bodies react in mysterious ways. Why, just the other day, I saw a lemon meringue pie that filled me so deeply with joy that I burst into loud, mucus-filled sobs.
    â€˜Well?’ growled Mama.
    â€˜This is Olive, Carlos, Hamish and Pigg McKenzie,’ said Basil. ‘They are my friends from Mrs Groves’ Boarding School for Naughty Boys, Talking Animals, Circus Performers and Time Travellers. They live in the twenty-first century.’
    â€˜What a load of strudel!’ snapped Mama. ‘Why you need to go gallivanting across the centuries to find school friends, I do not know.’ She whacked the wooden spoon down on the kitchen table and glared at Olive. ‘We sent Basil to Frau Schillings’ Boarding School for Mountain-Climbing Girls, Talking Goats and Cuckoo Clockmakers on the other side of the Black Forest, but he would not stay!’
    â€˜I am not a clockmaker, Mama,’ Basil whined. ‘Just because Papa is a clockmaker does not mean that I should be one too.’
    Mama slammed the rolling pin down on the kitchen table and glared at Olive once more. ‘He thinks we sent him there because we believe him to be a clockmaker!’ she huffed. ‘But it is, in fact, because he is a silly goat!’ She laughed and laughed until she snorted and had to drink three glasses of milk to stop herself from choking.
    Basil took the opportunity to escape. Grabbing Olive’s hand, he dashed through the wooden door, into the next room. Carlos and Hamish followed.
    Olive gasped. Hanging off every spare piece of wall, dangling from every beam, were cuckoo clocks. Cuckoo clocks large and small, ornate and simple, coloured and natural. Cuckoo clocks carved with acorns, draped with rabbits, topped with stag heads. Cuckoo clocks alive with dancing milkmaids, drumming drummers and tiny woodcutters sawing logs. The air was sweet with the smell of fresh sap, the floor soft with a carpet of sawdust. Chisels, mallets, pieces of timber, pots of paint and bottles of oil were scattered across benches, shelves and windowsills. The sound of ticking and tocking went on and on forever. They were, of course, in Herr Heffenhüffenheimer’s workshop.

    A giant of a man with blond hair and blue eyes stood behind the workbench. He wore lederhosen just like Basil’s . . . only bigger . . . otherwise they would be dreadfully uncomfortable! The chisel he was using almost disappeared in his large, calloused hands.
    â€˜Papa!’ cried Basil.
    â€˜My boy!’ He swept Basil into his arms, swung him around and tossed him into the air. Then placing him back on the ground, Papa took a tiny brass clock from his workbench, held it out and shook his head. ‘Tut-tut! You must be more careful, Basil. Did you forget? I still have not fixed your little clock with the hands that move backwards. You could have been stuck in the future.’
    Basil blushed. ‘I was fine, Papa. I found another clock on which the hands move backwards. And see? Here I am, home where I belong.’
    â€˜Such a forgetful boy! You know what the books say. Or you would if you did your study! There is much to understand about time travel. Rules and regulations that must be learned back to front . . . and then front to back! Otherwise mysterious and troublesome . . .’
    Papa’s voice trailed off as he noticed Olive, Hamish and Carlos. His frown vanished and a broad smile spread across his face. ‘ Guten Tag, Kinder! ’ He was obviouslyused to strange guests coming to his home from other times and places, for he did not look twice at Olive’s pink pyjamas, rabbit-shaped slippers and bandaged head. Nor did he question the croaking noises coming from Hamish’s pockets.
    â€˜I am very busy today,’ explained Papa. ‘I have this giant cuckoo