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

clock I am making for Herr Gunther that needs urgent attention, but the other cuckoo clocks must be wound and oiled and dusted. Can anyone help me?’
    Carlos and Hamish slipped and skidded in the sawdust as they rushed forward to volunteer.
    â€˜Wonderful!’ cried Papa.
    â€˜Oh no,’ moaned Olive, but it did not seem polite to tell Basil’s papa that he was as nutty as a bucket full of almonds if he thought it a good idea to let Hamish and Carlos loose on his cuckoo clocks.
    Basil, mistaking concern for concussion, said, ‘Come, Olive. You need to rest. We shall have a quiet little story time.’
    And so Olive spent a delightful hour outside, lying on the hillside while Basil read aloud from his favourite book, The Elves and the Clockmaker . The bracing fresh air was her medicine, the green grass and edelweiss her mattress, the sunshine her blanket, a cowpat her pillow.
    Peace.
    Tranquillity.
    Bliss.
    Only hunger (and the suspicion that Clara the cow was about to produce a second pillow, right near Olive’s head) finally lured them back indoors.
    â€˜And then,’ grunted Pigg McKenzie, ‘they said if I insisted on doing all of the wonderful acts of community service that the Girl Guides did, I really should be awarded the Grand Community Service Badge . . . and be made an honorary Girl Guide!’ He laughed and banged his trotters on the kitchen table, causing milk to spill, crumbs to dance and the last chocolate-coated marzipan ball to tumble to the floor.
    Basil’s mama threw back her head and guffawed until tears ran down her large, ruddy cheeks. ‘And you do not feel embarrassed to be called a little Girl Guide?’ she asked.
    â€˜No, no, no, no, no,’ sang the pig. ‘I am a great believer in equality. Girl Guide, pig, president, genius – I’d feel happy being called any of them. Besides, the badge is so darned pretty, I didn’t want to say no!’ He flicked his jacket and something shiny caught the light streaming in through the window.
    â€˜That’s my school-captain badge!’ cried Olive. ‘You went into my room and stole it while I was in the infirmary!’
    Pigg McKenzie leered at Olive. ‘It’s my badge, Oxford,’ he snorted. ‘A reward for being an exemplary Girl Guide.’
    â€˜It is very true!’ declared Mama. ‘Pigg McKenzie has knitted beanies for the homeless, read books to the blind and sung songs for the deaf. He is a very caring pig.’
    â€˜It does sound impressive,’ agreed Basil.
    Olive sighed and sat down at the table. ‘My name is Olive , not Oxford.’
    Hunger gnawed at her tummy, but most of the plates before her held nothing more than the trace of something delicious – biscuit crumbs, smears of stewed fruit, flakes of pastry. A tray of gingerbread men sat by Olive’s elbow, but all of the heads had been bitten off, and nobody likes eating gingerbread men without heads. There was also an entire Black Forest cherry cake, but as she watched, Pigg McKenzie began to eat it with a spoon, straight from the serving plate.
    â€˜Wonderful!’ cooed Mama. ‘This pig has such a healthy appetite. He has eaten almost everything in the house and drunk all of today’s milk.’
    â€˜And the cream!’ bragged the pig through a mouthful of cake. ‘Don’t forget the jug of cream I sculled.’
    Mama threw her head back and guffawed once more.
    â€˜So, Baz,’ snorted Pigg McKenzie. ‘Tell me about this time-travel caper. If we were to leave someone behind when we returned to Groves, would they be gone forever?’ He spooned the last of the cake into his mouth and stared at Olive. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
    â€˜Ha!’ laughed Mama. ‘Leave someone behind in time. What a funny idea!’
    But Olive did not see anything funny about it at all.
    â€˜Good question,’ said Basil, sitting down beside the pig.