Giant Bush

By Wednesday, Barry had developed a theory.

There was something hidden in the bottom of Marjory’s garden.

He didn’t know what.

It might be treasure.

It might be dinosaur bones.

It might be a pirate.

Marmaduke also wasn’t sure.

“What if it’s a giant mouse?”

Barry considered this.

“Then Bubble will catch it.”

Bubble, who was sitting nearby, slowly opened one eye.

Mr Brand had decided that Wednesday was the day for tackling the enormous bush at the bottom of the garden.

It was genuinely enormous.

It had been planted decades ago and had apparently been told that it was allowed to grow forever.

“That’s got to come down,” said Mr Brand.

Barry looked up.

“Why?”

“Because it’s taking over.”

“Maybe it lives here.”

“It’s a bush.”

“Maybe it pays rent.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“Fair point.”

Mr Brand began cutting branches.

Barry and Marmaduke were responsible for carrying the smaller pieces to the pile.

For approximately seven minutes, everything went perfectly.

Then Bubble disappeared into the bush.

Marmaduke froze.

“Bubble!”

Barry followed.

Mr Brand shouted, “Don’t go in there!”

They stopped.

Bubble emerged.

He had a leaf stuck to his head.

Barry laughed.

“You look silly.”

Bubble looked at Barry.

Then he disappeared again.

Barry looked at Marmaduke.

“There’s definitely something in there.”

They waited.

Nothing.

Then came a noise.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Barry’s eyes widened.

“Did you hear that?”

Marmaduke nodded.

Mr Brand heard it too.

He stopped cutting.

Everyone listened.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

“Probably a bird,” said Mr Brand.

Barry shook his head.

“Too scary.”

“You’ve decided it’s scary?”

“Yes.”

Marmaduke whispered, “Could be a monster.”

Mr Brand sighed.

“It’s not a monster.”

There was another noise.

Rustle.

Then Bubble shot out.

Everyone jumped.

Bubble raced across the garden.

In front of him streaked a small brown mouse.

“A MOUSE!” screamed Marmaduke.

Barry shouted, “I KNEW IT!”

The mouse ran under the shed.

Bubble skidded to a halt.

He stared underneath.

Mr Brand looked at him.

“No.”

Bubble looked at him.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Bubble crouched.

“No.”

Bubble disappeared under the shed.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.”

Marmaduke was delighted.

“Bubble’s hunting!”

Barry got down on his stomach.

“Can I help?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you becoming part of the mouse problem.”

The mouse suddenly shot out.

Bubble followed.

Barry followed Bubble.

Marmaduke followed Barry.

And once again Mr Brand found himself chasing three creatures around a garden while wondering where his life had gone wrong.

Eventually the mouse escaped through a hole in the fence.

Bubble sat down.

He looked disappointed.

Barry patted him.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get him next time.”

Bubble licked his paw.

Meanwhile, the bush had finally been reduced.

Behind it was something nobody expected.

An old wooden bench.

“Oh!” said Marjory.

Mr Brand stared.

“I wondered where that went.”

“You knew about this?”

“No.”

Barry climbed onto it.

“This is the treasure.”

“It’s a bench.”

“It’s treasure to me.”

Marmaduke sat beside him.

“It needs cleaning.”

They spent the afternoon scrubbing it.

Well, Mr Brand scrubbed it.

Barry and Marmaduke supervised.

Alfie appeared with another completed workbook.

“How’s the garden?”

“Excellent,” said Barry.

“What did you do?”

“We found a mouse.”

“That isn’t gardening.”

“It was in the garden.”

Alfie frowned.

Barry smiled.

“Exactly.”

By the end of Wednesday, the garden looked transformed.

The enormous bush was gone.

The bench was visible.

The border was clear.

And Bubble had discovered that gardening was excellent hunting.

Everybody was happy.

Except the mouse.

And probably the mouse’s family.