Free Billy Angel by Sam Hay

very soppy voice, ‘Thelma, I love you. This one’s for you!’ And with that he took an enormous bite.
    The audience gasped. Thelma nearly fell off her chair. And Charlie threw up. Literally, and it wasn’t a pretty sight, I can tell you.
    â€˜Grant, you’ve won!’ squealed Thelma.
    The crowd went wild. And Grant went blue. In all the excitement, pie number 15 had got stuck in his throat. At first, everyone was too busy cheering to notice. But then Grant fell under the table and the room went quiet. There were screams and moans and people were queuing up to thump him on the back.
    â€˜Call an ambulance!’ shouted Thelma’s dad.
    â€˜He’s going to die!’ called out Charlie cheerfully.
    â€˜Billy!’ bawled Thelma. ‘Do something!’
    Me? Why me? I mean, I’m not exactly a close friend of Thelma’s. She can’t stand me, for God’s sake. But for some reason, it was me she shouted to. And, bizarrely, I responded. I did what any plumber would do – I reached inside my giant tool bag, immediately found my plunger and leapt over the table. I put the plunger carefully over Grant’s mouth and nose, and gently plunged three times.
    That was all it took. In seconds, I felt movement. I loosened the plunger, and used my finger to winkle out the final piece of pie number 15.
    â€˜That’s my boy,’ came a deep, gravely voice from the door.
    It was my dad!
    Disaster! The last thing in the world I wanted was for him to see me do anything vaguely connected to a future in plumbing. I could have kicked myself. And then there was uproar. Grant was coughing and puking and thanking me, at the same time as trying to snog Thelma, who was declaring her undying love for him!Then I was suddenly thrust aloft by the pie-eating fans and flung into the air to a resounding chorus of ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow…’
    What a night.
    Or should that be night
mare
?
    Eventually, things calmed down. Grant was crowned pie-eating champ of the night, though as he hadn’t actually finished his final pie (which had very nearly finished him off), Stan’s record was declared safe, which I felt quite glad about. Thelma’s dad promised me a lifetime’s supply of free pies. (He’d secretly admitted that his pie shop couldn’t take another death on the premises. Personally I think they should scrap the competition, it’s too dangerous.) Thelma and Grant asked me to be their best man, when they tie the knot in five years’ time. (They really did set the date and everything.) Thelma also took me aside and said she was touched that I loved her, and that I’d saved Grant’s life, but I could never be more than a brother to her – for which I thank my lucky stars. Charlie Pittam left with his new girlfriend, muttering about how pies were overrated, and sausages were much more his thing. And my dad toured the room, telling anyone he could corner long enoughthat I was a real chip off the old block and he was planning to enter me in the plunging event of the next Olympics. (Don’t laugh. It’s true. They do actually hold a plumbing Olympics every four years. You see what sort of life I have to look forward to?) Gaby, who’d disappeared for a while, returned to tell me that she’d wheeled Stan into the back alley behind the shop. He was unfortunately now a bag of bones again, but Gaby said he’d had the happiest smile she’d ever seen on a skeleton. (And, of course, she’s seen hundreds.) We both agreed to meet up the next day to somehow return Stan to his box in the anatomy library. And me? I was just glad to go home.

Chapter 17
    â€˜Hey, Lavender Rise, what’s with the beauty sleep?’
    I actually smelt him before I saw him. It was eleven o’clock and I wasn’t asleep. I was waiting for him. I wanted him to tell me it was all over. And that I didn’t have to watch over Thelma for