The Bearton Bears episode 1 samples
Eddie Upside Down
Chapter 1 Eddie's Tail
Thursday 23rd April
“Owww, that hurt! He got me right on the end of my tail.” Eddie Edgely turned circles in a futile attempt to see where he had been hit. The orange paintball had landed with some force, splatting him right on the little patch of grey fur that distinguished itself from the rest of his pale brown coat.
“He’s not supposed to shoot you in the back, Eddie. That’s not fair,” cried Salvador. He spun around to see where the attack was coming from, only to be met by a hail of orange paint.
“Owww, ahh, owwwww!” he cried as the shots landed; two on the chest and the last one, which hurt by far the most on the tip of his ear.
The resulting orange spatter looked even more lurid, as Salvador’s fur was pure white from head to foot.
“Well, at least he waited until I turned around, I suppose. I wish these masks were bigger. Who’s bright idea was this anyway?” he added, pinching the tip of his ear gently to ease the stinging.
“Good old Ru, of course. I don’t think I like paintballing,” said Eddie. The pair of them went off rubbing sore spots and joined their friend and fellow team member, Rufus on the sidelines. Rufus had been banned from the current game for catching an opponent with a string of low shots at too close a range and rendering his competitor temporarily hors de combat.
Rufus was quietly furious to see that the referee had left an opponent playing after landing Eddie such an unfair attack. Poor Eddie was still rubbing his tail.
Rufus looked a little sheepish, probably because he knew most of the gang had only come paintballing to please him. Incensed and being a bit of a maverick, he took both Eddie's and Salvador's guns and rejoined the field. It was no longer a game to him anyway, so blow the rules.
He rushed up to the top of a ridge just in time to be greeted by the sight of two more of his friends, Leo and Charles, running towards him, howling and spattered in orange paint. Rufus saw red.
Rufus had fine military training and was a superb marksman. He turned his weapons on the opposing team and weaving like a snake to dodge the barrage of oncoming paintballs, he advanced upon the enemy with a terrifying growl. He skilfully landed his ammo and when he was through, there were no less than seven members of the opposing team running out of the little band of woods at the opposite side of the field, howling. Some were rubbing their tails. Some were rubbing their ears. Some were trying to rub both without dropping their expensive toys.
Eddie’s team were all ordered off the field now and asked to submit their weapons, which most were pleased to do. Rufus, however, looked a little as if he might unleash a volley at the organizers at one point; but a kind but stern look from Salvador helped him to decide that enough was enough, for now at least.
Rufus lay down his guns reverently. He then growled at the organizers, who all took a step backwards. Rufus smiled sweetly, gave them a wink, and said, “Only joking, fellas. See you next time?”
Charles and Leo, who had come over the hill in time to witness Rufus’ cavalry charge, were very paint-spattered and sore. They had taken the worst of it.
As they were all walking out of the grounds, Eddie saw the chap who had refereed that last game. Eddie, who had booked the day’s sport, thought that he should complain to the bear about Rufus being disqualified, whilst the chap who shot him in the tail had escaped penalty. Nobody else seemed very concerned, though, so he decided not to make a fuss. But as Charles drew level with the referee, he gave him a fearsome, hard stare and the poor fellow shrank visibly.
“I just want you to know, sir, that it was very unfair of you to disqualify my friend Rufus and yet let that chap on the other team off after he shot Eddie here in the tail.” He pointed to Eddie’s tail and paused a moment before adding, “Don’t you know?” and leaning forward even more until their noses touched. The referee shrank into his boots.
Eddie looked down at his feet. He was sorry not to be the one to have awarded such a fine dressing down. Charles was very assertive when the need arose. He was a joy to watch.
“Thank you, Charles, beautifully done,” said Eddie as he pushed down the feeling of having let another opportunity to step up to the plate and assert himself pass him by.
Eddie could be quite assertive when he had prepared to be so, though if a situation caught him off guard, he would often let a troublesome thing pass, rather than dealing with it head-on. When he did, he always felt deflated. Feeling this way now, and with a sore tail to boot, Eddie led his party away from the scene to climb into their vehicles and head to their homes for a shower and brush up.
Later that evening, they would rejoin Eddie. Eddie often gave a dinner party after their monthly outings. Tonight he would play host to his paintballing compadres and three more of their mutual friends. It was going to be a bit of a squeeze at Eddie’s table. Little had he considered the possibility that it would be the last time he would do this. Well, in his home on the edge of the Bearton on Sea east cliffs anyhow. Nor did he realise just then that just one month from now, his life would be very different.
Chapter 2 Dinner on the Rocks
Eddie was just putting the finishing touches to the sauce for his signature dish of trout with mustard and honey dressing when the sound of Charles’ car pulling up outside had him rushing to the door to greet the first of his guests. Charles had picked up Leo and three more friends, Henry, Chris and Eddie’s cousin Harry, in his big vintage Bluntly Boyce car. Charles loved his Bluntly and took any opportunity to take his friends for a ride in old-fashioned style to show it off.
Eddie showed the five to their places, and they passed him various contributions towards the evening meal, mostly drinks, though Chris had brought some of his renowned honey and walnut truffles for afterwards. Charles, besides his gift of fine cranberry cordial, had provided a very good Stilton cheese.
With the first arrivals seated, Eddie passed a jug of Charles’ cranberry around the table. Before long, they heard Rufus coming on his motorcycle. They heard him rather a long time before he arrived. Rufus’ sole transport was his Charley Henderson motorcycle, which had very little in the way of silencers fitted. Presently, he walked in, took off his helmet, and straightened his ears. He joined them at the table.
“Salvador is on his way. I just passed him on the high street pootling along at twenty as usual. Looks like he had something in the back.” He winked at Eddie.
Salvador was a well-known chef who had the cafe on the beach. He was bringing the afters.
Sure enough, Salvador arrived a few moments later, bearing a big box of ingredients with which to assemble his contribution on the spot. There were, among other things, freshly made meringues, homegrown early strawberries forced in Salvador's kitchen garden and a big jar of whipping cream. Eddie gratefully relieved him of his burden and took it into the kitchen.
Eddie returned to the dining room to check that his guests were all comfortable and well looked after. They were a little cramped even though Eddie had divided them up thoughtfully so that the largest bears, Charles and Henry, sat at the ends whilst he and Salvador, the chefs, were nearest the kitchen with Rufus. Leo, Chris, and Harry were shoehorned along the other side of the table.
He poured Salvador the last of the jug of cranberry and prepared a fresh one ready for top-ups. He looked around the table, which was only made for six. The walls and ceiling were not far away from the nearest bear, but it was cosy.
Eddie seldom entertained more than five of his friends at a time, but he had pushed the boat out today. Eddie’s house was slowly getting near the edge of the cliffs. Or, to be more precise, the edge of the cliffs was slowly getting nearer to Eddie’s house. A surveyor’s report had estimated that he may have a year to go before he had to move out, and he had determined to make the most of his time there.
Inevitably, Pear Tree Cottage, the house he had grown up in, would become like so many other homes further along to the east; eventually, it would end up as rubble on the beach. Erosion had taken its toll on the coastline of Bearton on Sea and the surrounding area. Eddie’s home might go after the winter storms or it might last a little longer. Nobody knew. At all events, they were safe tonight.
His friends, all being aware of his plight, were pleased to pack themselves in a bit to be together with him around his homely table. Besides, Eddie was a wonderful cook and host.
Eddie presented the first course; a seafood platter with lettuce and exotic grasses with a little hollandaise sauce, all plated up individually with a garnish of finely chopped herbs.
There was a chorus of approval from around the room, and Salvador added, “Haha! Eddie, this looks wonderful! Ever thought of coming and doing a spot of commis cheffing for me?”
“Ha, thanks, Salvador, I hope it tastes as good as it looks.” Eddie knew it did, as he had already tested a bit of everything, as every good chef should.
He sat down at last with his own dish and raised his glass. “To us all,” he proposed.
“To us all,” the rest of the table replied, followed by the sound of knives and forks demolishing platters of seafood and grasses, sauce and all. Many ummm’s and ahhh’s were forthcoming and the odd ‘sorry’ when someone elbowed a neighbour because of the cosiness of the occasion, but no further conversation was heard until everyone had paid homage to Eddie’s talent by devouring all that was on their plate.
Eddie took the dishes to the kitchen and put together his main course. Meanwhile, Chris, Harry and Henry were eager to hear about the paintballing. They were sorry that they could not join in, though after hearing how it turned out, they agreed with those who had decided that paintballing was not for them.
“Paintballing?” asked Salvador. “Pain-balling more like it.”
“Personally,” began Charles in his ponderous way, “I believe I would have enjoyed it more, were I a younger bear. Can we do something that involves sitting down next month, do you think?”
“I’ll second that. It’s all very well for you youngsters,” said Salvador.
“Sorry, Rufus,” said Charles, turning to his friend, who was once again looking a little crestfallen.
“That’s all in Harry’s hands,” said Rufus. “It’s his turn to decide what we do next month.” Rufus once again hung his head a little and suppressed an urge to further change the subject.
“Oh, Charles, I’ll think of something that we can all enjoy if I can,” said Harry.
“Eddie, is that trout I can smell?” called Chris, ever the diplomat.
“And something deliciously smoky, paprika, maybe?” added Henry
Eddie appeared in the kitchen door, looking a little flustered but wearing a big smile along with his chef’s hat. “Well guessed, my dear guests,” said Eddie, carrying a big bowl of potatoes with melted butter and chives on top. Peas, broccoli and mushrooms followed and then the plated trout, with its lush dressing of mustard and honey sauce with the paprika topping that Henry’s sensitive nose had discerned.
“A masterpiece, Eddie!” said Salvador, and again there was little said for a while as they tucked in.
“Ooof!” let out Leo, and a shower of peas flew off his fork and landed in Chris’s lap. “Oh, I’m sorry Leo, sorry Chris,” said Harry, who had accidentally dug Leo in the ribs at a crucial moment.
“Not to worry, Harry,” said Leo, turning to retrieve his vegetables from Chris, who was trying to pick them out of his fur with the minimum of fuss.
“Oh, so sorry chaps, it is a bit cramped in here,” said Eddie
“Nooo, it’s nice and cosy, Eddie,” said Chris graciously. “What are a few peas among friends?” he added.
“Hear, hear,” said Leo, picking up his glass. “To Eddie.”
“The founder of the feast,” added Harry, still feeling a little guilty for catching Leo such a blow and causing such a calamity of petit pois.
As kind as his friends were to squeeze in like this and put up with the unavoidable neighbourly elbowing from time to time, he realised that he needed a bigger dining room. He longed for a home like his friend Ted’s. Ted had Portmanor, which was a huge rambling place that used to be the stately home of the Brunos. Ted was a good friend of Eddie’s and indeed of all the bears gathered around the table. Eddie would have loved for him to come tonight, but no way, no how, would he have been able to have seated another bear. At Ted’s, you could seat twenty bears comfortably, and that was just around the regular dining table in the family dining room. The main hall could cater for dozens, maybe hundreds.
There was one other house in Bearton like it. His Uncle Bertie had been its owner when Eddie was very young, and he remembered playing there. That was Bruinton Hall. Bertie had lost it gambling.
“Penny for your thoughts, Eddie,” offered Charles.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Charles and all. I’d gone off in a daydream for a moment. Can I pour you some more cranberry, Charles?”
“Thank you, Eddie.” Charles could guess that Eddie was thinking something of the sort. He and all those present were aware that Eddie had become a little withdrawn lately, and they were all worried.
Though they were a way off yet, the winter storms were a worry. The likelihood was that when they arrived, Eddie would have little choice but to leave this home that he loved and maybe take an offer from Bearton Council for one of the new flats in town. This was going to be such a blow for him after inheriting his current home from his parents and never having lived anywhere else permanently. He was going to need his friends close around him when the time came.
Nobody wanted to draw Eddie’s attention to the metaphorical elephant that also inhabited the already cramped room. The conversation remained very light and as cheery as possible.
Charles watched Eddie for the rest of the evening and was pleased to see him mostly enjoying himself, being the good host.
After a pause, Salvador busied himself in the kitchen and soon came swaggering back into the room with an enormous bowl of Eaton mess perched on one paw above his head. The assembly appreciatively made quick work of it; then it was Chris’ turn to delight with his array of truffles.
Finally, after the cheese and a round of coffees, the friends thanked Eddie profusely and bid each other good night.
Soon after he had finished washing up and everything was shipshape, Eddie went to bed and put his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes and prayed that his house would be safe tonight and for a long while yet to come.
Chapter 3 A Letter From Portmanor Hall
Friday 24th April
Eddie awoke early next morning, and went straight to his window to look at the markers in his back garden. The surveyors who were observing the erosion of the cliffs had put a series of red and white striped poles along the length of the back gardens at yard intervals. To his relief, no more had vanished, and the plastic barrier that warned people to go no nearer the edge was still in place. The garden was still nineteen yards long. The last marker had vanished over the edge a few weeks back when there was a heavy sea. The last of Eddie’s neighbours had left soon afterwards.
Abandoning his home would be a last resort for Eddie. He had seen the plans for the new flats that the council were offering, and though they were quite nice, they were much smaller than his current home, and he didn’t see himself settling into one of them at all well. Eddie had stayed in flats for a while when he went away to study and there was always some noise from his neighbours and he was forever worrying about his own noise disturbing them. Eddie liked his detached house and his gardens. He was a keen gardener and there wasn’t even a communal garden at the flats, just an ugly car park. No garage for his Greta, his lovely old Norris two-seater sports car either. He’d have to get a more sensible car that would handle being out in the weather better.
These kinds of thoughts had become a habit for Eddie, and the nearer the cliffs got to his home, the more they worried him. The only other homes available in Bearton were privately owned, and they didn’t come up for sale all that often. Rented properties were rare. Eddie was a clerk for the town council. He thought he would be unlikely to get a big enough loan from the bank on his current salary to buy a house. Eddie had the opportunity of promotion many times in the past but had always turned it down, as he liked his current job. There was no stress and no real responsibility. It was nice to walk out of the office at 5 o’clock on the dot and forget all about work. He valued that very much. He didn’t handle stress very well and found any situation where he had to take centre stage uncomfortable. Meetings he disliked, and any occasion which involved public speaking would cause him to break out in a cold sweat.
Eddie had tried a myriad of “Get rich quick” schemes on the internet, which had so far turned out to be a waste of time and money.
He had considered trying to have some of his writing published. Eddie had been writing since he was a cub. He enjoyed writing fiction and he had several novels ready for professional editing and a whole screenplay that would make a nice serial if it ever got taken up. He had stacks of short stories and a few non-fiction books, too. Even though his friends had urged him to go further with them, his self-doubt had held him back. Rather than risk rejection, he contented himself to write them and leave them to rest for now. He was thinking through all this as he got himself ready to go to Salvador’s for breakfast. Downstairs in the hall, he was thinking about his most recent novel when he noticed the sunlight, dappled by the stirring fronds of trees outside, streaking through the stained glass panel in his front door and casting its light on a picture on the wall. For a moment, to Eddie, the still, black-and-white photo was transformed into a Technicolor movie. Eddie looked closely at the image. He was very fond of this picture; it was Bruinton Hall.
Such a shame that Uncle Bertie lost it, he thought.
The Hall was now owned by a rich entrepreneur who had made his wealth in the mining industry. The flashing colours drew Eddie in, and in his mind’s eye, he went through the door. There stood his uncle and his mother. Harry, his cousin by another uncle, was visiting too.
Happy days, he thought with bittersweet feelings, working their way upwards from somewhere in his belly.
All of them were much younger in his reverie. Eddie felt a lump in his throat and swallowed it down as a cloud passed by overhead and the picture lost its magic, once more dull, black and white and in the shade. Eddie swallowed again, picked up his bag and opened the front door. He stepped outside and soon Bruinton and his cubhood faded out of awareness once more.
The seagulls were calling. It was a promising spring morning. Plenty of sunshine was making it past the sprinkling of clouds, which were pushed along by a stiff morning breeze. Great sailing weather, thought Eddie. He loved sailing. He had a small wooden sailing boat down in the harbour that he had rebuilt himself in his back garden after rescuing it in pieces from a hedge on a nearby farm.
It would be lovely to step aboard for a quick sail around Surf Island before breakfast, but Eddie had to go to work later today.
A hint of dew lay all around, sparkling and fresh. It caused the daffodils to bow their heads and sway gently in the breeze, which played in Eddie’s informal but well kept front garden. The tiles of the front path were satin with the sheen of the dew, which was quickly evaporating in the morning sun. A healthy, rich, earthy smell rose from the beds.
Just as he reached the gate, he saw the Postbear’s van approaching with the portly form of Tubshaw behind the wheel. Shortly, it drew up at the gate and Tubshaw leaned out of the window with a cheery “Good Morning Eddie.” He held out a letter. “One from the Hall by the looks”
“Thank you, Tubs, bless you.”
“Have a good day, Eddie.”
“Yes, thank you, you too, Tubs.”
But Tubshaw was already speeding towards his next appointment.
Eddie studied the neat, cream-coloured envelope with the seal of Portmanor Hall. It was from Ted. He hooked it open and took the note written on thick, handmade paper from within. He opened it and read Ted’s fine florid script, written with his best italic dip pen and brown ink. Ted was an unashamedly old-fashioned bear; a stickler for tradition. Eddie started reading with a smile, though as he continued to read, he felt a cold prickle inside.
My Dear Eddie,
Katalina and I cordially invite you to dinner at Portmanor Hall on 16th June at 6:00pm. Dinner at 7:00pm
I thought it would be fun if a few guests would tell an after-dinner tale, and since I know you are such a fine writer and storyteller, we would be delighted if you would bring one of your own for us. I would so appreciate a true tale about yourself. We have a mystery guest who is new to the area who would very much like to get to know anyone that he has not yet met and to know better, anyone with whom he is by then already acquainted. I cannot think of a better way to facilitate this or any that would be more fun. The Lord and Lady Tussocks will also be in attendance.
There will be an award for the best story to be given out at an award ceremony the following morning on the Knoll, weather permitting, or in the Great Hall for the winner.
Of course, Eddie, if you do not wish to bring a tale, then please do come along, anyway. You are most welcome with or without, but please let me know, so that I can complete my arrangements ASAP.
RSVP
Kindest Regards,
Your friend,
Ted.
Eddie Loved to go to the Hall and visit Ted and his friends there, but his stomach lurched at the thought of standing up to tell his story in front of a total stranger and the terrifying Lord and Lady Tussocks. What true story would he tell that would meet with their approval, anyway?
Eddie gulped and put the little note back in its envelope and tucked it into his bag. Could he make an excuse? But there was none, and he was too honest to make one up. He focused on his trip to Salvador’s. He promised himself, extra honey with his roles. His mouth felt a little dry and he might have a problem swallowing them without the extra lubrication.
Chapter 4 Eddie's Daring Rescue
Eddie wandered up the road in a daze. He crossed the road and made his way through the narrow alley between the grocers and the bakers. The cliff top path led through the woods bordering this part of Bearton on Sea. The woods gave some protection from the strong winds that often blew ashore in the winter, jostling the trees and leaving them a little twisted and stunted. There was no such wind today, just the fresh breeze, yet Eddie felt a little jostled inside himself. The path led off to the West. The cliff at this point was high but quickly descended to the beach.
Eddie was about to begin his descent when he heard cubs’ voices and the soulful sound of sobbing. It was coming through the trees from somewhere near the edge of the cliff. Worried, Eddie stepped through the trees and some undergrowth to investigate. Right on the edge of the cliff, a little boar cub was sitting on the ground, rubbing his eyes and crying. Two she cubs were hanging onto something over the edge of the cliff which Eddie realised was another bigger young boar cub.
“My goodness, what on earth are you doing? Get back from the edge before you fall,” said Eddie, taking charge of the situation. The two she cubs quickly pulled the boy cub back onto the cliff.
“It’s risky. It’s about fifteen feet down and it’s very steep and giving way. I might try it,” said the second boar cub without noticing Eddie.
“What is the matter,” said Eddie, stepping nearer “come back from the edge now, please! It could give way at any moment!”
“Aaarnollld!” cried the littlest cub
“Good heavens! Is there someone over there?” Eddie advanced to the very edge. He could very well have gone straight over if his weight had caused the ground to crumble. There was no one in sight, but very near the edge, before the slope became a precipitous drop, was Arnold.
“No sir, be careful! It’s only Percy’s teddy!”
Percy let out a heart-rending wail and began sobbing with renewed vigour.
“Oh sir, he’s lost his bear over the edge.”
“Thank goodness. Don’t worry young fella,” said Eddie, turning to the sobbing youngster, “we’ll get your bear back for you somehow.”
Eddie still had a bear of his own that his mum had given him, and he was very fond of it, even as an adult. He would be sad if anything happened to it, so he could imaging why little Percy was so distraught.
Safely Back from the edge, Eddie went to Percy to comfort him. “Don’t you worry, Percy, we’ll get your bear back. He’s Arnold, is he?”
“Yes, Arnold.” A new cry of anguish arose with the utterance of his little companion’s name.
“Well, don’t worry, young chap, I’ll soon have Arnold back safely for you, I’m sure. How did he get down there, young Percy?”
“A big cub from school threw him,” said one of the she cubs.
“Waaahhhh!” Came from Percy. Eddie couldn’t understand how such little lungs could make such an incredible racket, and he hoped they would attract other helpers soon.
“What a rotten little blighter! Oh, sorry, you mustn’t repeat that, please!”
“He is a rotten little blighter, sir!” the older boar cub replied. “Well, big blighter but he’ll be sorry though, he didn’t realise who he was messing with. Percy’s brother is the best fighter in the school!”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Eddie. “Now look, who of you is the fastest runner?”
“Me, sir,” said the older boar.
“Excellent, what’s your name, young boar?”
“Ben, sir.”
“Ok Ben, I want you to run as fast as you can to the bakers in the high street and get Vincent here or someone else who looks strong. When you’re back, I’ll fetch a rope and we’ll rescue the bear.”
“Yes sir, I’ll be right back sir,” and he was off running before he’d finished saying it.
“Now don’t you worry Percy, Arnold will be back safe and sound soon enough.”
“Wahhhhhh!”
“Let’s have a better look-see.”
Eddie crept up to the edge on all fours to spread his weight a little and looked over. “Now you must all stay well back, do you promise?”
“Yes, sir.”
The first twenty feet of the cliff top was a steep, sloping bank that led to a sheer drop. Various tree roots were sticking out of the sandy surface of the slope. Arnold, a rather grubby and dishevelled looking teddy bear, was about fifteen feet down the slope. The sea had carved its way right up to the cliffs, and Eddie knew that there were rocks below too. His stomach turned a little as he thought of it. If I went over there, it’d be curtains for sure. Out of nowhere he had a crazy thought of falling over and his little house landing on top of him and burying him; even though it was a quarter of a mile away.
With his mind focused back on reality, he realised that if Arnold went over, he would be washed away in no time. The roots looked sound and like they would give good holds if needed.
Eddie was planning the safe way down with a rope and some help from his friend Vincent from the baker’s on the high street when suddenly a small gust of wind blew onto the cliff for a moment and Arnold slipped another foot or so nearer the edge. Without further delay and very stupidly as he later reflected, Eddie launched himself over the edge shouting, “I’ll be right back. Stay away from the edge you cubs!”
Eddie moved quickly. He knew that moving quickly may not be the safest way to proceed, but if his courage gave out before he got the job done, he would be in real trouble. The only way to get this done was in solid denial of just how foolish a venture it was.
As he charged down the slope, things got even scarier: The sand began to give way and slide down the slope. Eddie imagined it going over the edge rather than actually looking to see it doing so, and in his imagination, he was soon following it over and falling the hundred-foot sheer drop with Arnold tumbling through the air beside him.
Eddie caught hold of a root to stop himself from sliding. Snap! It was rotten. It slowed him slightly, but it came away in his paws. He clawed at the sand and more of it went down the slope.
Arnold was slipping nearer the edge too now, though miraculously everything stopped moving for a moment and Eddie shimmied down a little further, scooped Arnold up in his paw and placed the bear’s grubby ear between his teeth. He imagined he could taste something equally grubby and cub-like, but at least he had the bear.
He began gently trying to claw his way back up the bank and made a little progress
Are you alright, sir? Ben’s coming back, I think!
“Oood! Shtay way hrom ee ejjjj!” Eddie stifled at them.
He was gaining ground when a little land slide began again and he began slipping slowly at first but with rapidly increasing speed. Eddie descended into a blind panic. He forgot about the softly, softly approach and flailed wildly about. This made the landslide worse. Eddie realised this and froze.
Talk about putting your foot in it, he thought. Both feet, in fact. A daring feet! he jested, somehow finding a kind of hysterical humour in the moment. That went in a flash as the ground gave way completely, and Eddie felt himself falling rather than sliding. His jaws opened in shock for a moment and he almost lost Arnold, but he snapped them shut again and bit into the flavoursome fabric more deeply.
He furiously scrabbled for roots and anything that would give him purchase. His mind skipped ahead of reality for a fleeting second and he was falling through the air with Arnold in between his teeth with nothing to stop his crash landing on the rocks below. Back in reality, he scrabbled and panicked for all he was worth to avoid the fantasy becoming fact and somehow got ahead of the landslide.
He gained further ground and kept scrabbling and clawing until he was finally near the top, his energy flagging and about to give out on him. His head peered over the edge just as Vincent the Baker arrived with Ben. Vincent threw himself on the ground and locked arms with Eddie, and pulled him the last foot or so back onto terra firma. There was a sickening ‘slumph’ sound from behind Eddie.
He knew that the entire slope had gone over. Sure enough, there was an enormous splash as tons of sand and rocks landed in the shallow sea one hundred feet below. Eddie’s eyes were wide with fear, and it shocked Vincent to see how frightened he looked.
Percy let out a wail and cried, “Stop it. Stop him, he’s eating my bear!”
Eddie gave Percy the bear, and Percy looked at Eddie in awe. All Eddie’s fur was standing on end.
Vincent, who had dared to take a peek over the cliff, came back and said, “You were so lucky Eddie, the whole lot’s gone. It’s just a sheer drop to the rocks now.”
Eddie fainted and keeled over sideways, landing on the soft loam of the forest floor.
“Ben. He needs a shot of rum. Run back to the baker’s and get Joseph to give you a bottle, eh?” said Vincent.
“Yes sir. Ok sir,” said Ben, running off again.
“Eddie, Eddie,” said Vincent, trying to establish if Eddie was breathing properly. He patted his jowls and shook him gently by the shoulders.
“Urr,” Groaned Eddie
“Eddie, it’s Vince, you passed out. Are you OK?”
“Ohhh. Vince. I think so,” Eddie tried to rise. Vince helped him to sit up and Eddie shook himself a little before rolling onto all fours for another good, long shake. After his second shake, he stood up, much stronger again. “Ahhh! There you go. Just needed a little nap and a shake,” he jested, feeling rather embarrassed.
“That was a very heroic thing you did, Eddie. Very, very stupid, but very heroic.”
“I’m happy just to stick with very stupid, Vince, thanks.”
Just then Ben returned with the Rum and gave it to Vincent
“Thanks, Ben,” he said, taking the top off the bottle. “Here, Eddie, have a slug of this,” he said, pushing the bottle at him.
“Oh, no Vince, I never touch it and I need to go to work after breakfast. Thanks anyway.”
Vince took a drop himself. “Sure?” he asked.
“Yes, sure thanks; I’ll be OK in a moment.” Eddie felt guilty for rejecting Vincent’s offer. After all, he had saved Eddie when his strength was all gone at the top of the cliff. Without his powerful arms, he would be on the rocks, along with tons of sand and other debris. “Thanks, Vincent. You saved my life,” he said.
“You’d have made it up Eddie I just gave you a paw up that’s all.”
“Maybe I could of if the ground hadn’t given way…” at that thought Eddie’s head swam again and he teetered slightly. Vince went to catch him, but there was no need. Eddie regained himself.
Eddie became aware of a little paw tapping him on the leg. It was Percy.
“Thanks, mister,” he said. “Arnold wants to give you a hug.” Eddie dutifully took the grubby teddy and gave him a hug. This gesture and the trust and gratitude shown by Percy, who had previously thought that Eddie was going to eat Arnold, warmed Eddie. He handed the teddy reverently back to Percy whilst saying, “Now, Arnold, you look after this young fella, Percy. And Percy, I know you’ll look after Arnold.”
“I will, sir.”
Percy and his older companions left, having rained adulation upon Eddie, who felt like running away. Vincent walked beside Eddie down the cliff path and watched him walk across the beach to Salvador’s before returning to his work. He admired Eddie for what he had done. Very much so, even if it had been very, very stupid.
Chapter 5 Breakfast at Salvador's
Eddie didn’t want anyone at the cafe to know about his brave but foolhardy action. He decided to keep it to himself. As he approached Salvador’s Cafe, even after his upsetting ordeal, Eddie was feeling his appetite return.
The growing smell of Fresh bread rolls, scones and coffee worked like a charm. Eddie was soon scampering along as if it had all been a bit of a bad dream that happened sometime last night.
Breakfast at Salvador’s Beach Cafe was in full swing now. Normally, Eddie was one of the first to arrive. Salvador himself bustled into sight with a tray of buns and coffee for a couple of bears across the way.
Salvador was tall and his pure white coat and pristine chef’s whites matched perfectly. He certainly cut a dazzling figure.
“My dear Eddles. How are you this morning? My, are you alright? You look a little peaky? I hope we didn’t keep you up too late last night?”
“Dear Salvador, I’m fine, thank you and no, not at all. How are you?”
Salvador sidled up to Eddie and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Have you heard from Ted this morning?” not wanting anyone who may not have received an invitation to overhear and feel left out.
Eddie had forgotten all about the party. The very thought of the after-dinner tales bought back the rather less pleasant sensation in his stomach, though it seemed mild compared with the terror he experienced on the cliff. “Yes I had a letter Salvador,” Eddie replied
“I bet there'll be some stonking good yarns to listen to after dinner, eh, Eddie?”
“I bet you’re right, too. Ted has asked me to share one. Can't think for the life of me what I can share.”
“My dear bear, you have a wealth of ripping yarns to tell.”
“I suppose I could muster something,” Eddie mumbled, unconvinced.
Salvador sashayed off to fetch Eddie's breakfast. Just as he vanished into the kitchen in a ghostly waft, Eddie caught sight of a large pair of Amber paws, one either side of a newspaper holding it in front of what must have been an equally sizable bear. Presently, the fellow lowered the newspaper and Eddie got a glimpse of him. Eddie hadn't seen him before. He wondered who the stranger was.
Eddie took in the appearance of this chap. He was indeed quite a large fellow, with a broad head and handsome features. He had a long but stout snout with a noble upturn to his nose. Bet he’s an alpha boar, thought Eddie. Bet he doesn't suffer fools gladly. That said, Eddie thought overall he had a kindly look about him. He looked as though you might welcome him as a rich, beneficent uncle who had come up the hard way and made good of himself. He took all of this in and stored it away for potential use in one of his novels or short stories.
Eddie’s mind drifted back to the storytelling. He felt the fluttering in his stomach again, just as Salvador reappeared with the cure for it. The stranger lifted his paws and vanished behind the paper once more. Eddie lost himself in his passion for breakfasting on coffee and scones dripping with the best local honey.
Eddie was already busy with his first scone when he thought to ask Salvador candidly who the stranger was. Before he had finished his mouthful, Salvador had hurried off to the kitchen to prepare his next order. Eddie took his time working his way through the rest of his breakfast, washing it down with plenty of his favourite brand of coffee. It was very strong and very invigourating. So engrossed was he in his pleasant work that he didn't notice the stranger leave. Nor did he notice his friend Charles arrive.
“Good morning, Eddie.”
“Charles. Good morning. Here, allow me.” Eddie stood and pulled out a chair for his friend.
“Thanks, Eddie and thanks so much again for last night it was a lovely evening and very delicious food with it,” said Charles.
“Thanks, Charles, you're welcome indeed. Bit of a squeeze, wasn’t it?”
“Cosy Eddie and great to all be together.”
Charles sat down and leaned towards Eddie, and speaking in his rather ponderous voice at very low volume, he asked, “Have you heard from Ted this morning?”
Eddie had just noticed in the corner of his eye that the stranger had left a book on the chair beside the one he had been using when Charles’ question grabbed him by the throat.
In a low voice, almost a whisper, Eddie replied, “Ah, yes. You mean about the party?” he said. He gazed about himself and saw that there was nobody close by to overhear him, as for the moment they had this corner of the cafe to themselves.
“Yes,” said Charles. “His party with Lord and Lady Tussocks and the mystery guest.”
The way Charles said it with such gravity made Eddie’s blood run cold as he thought of taking centre stage In front of “The mystery guest.”
“My word Eddie, are you quite alright?” Charles had noticed the worried expression sweep over the face of his friend.
“Oh, to be honest, Charles, I'm not really looking forward to telling a story about myself in front of a mystery guest. I never was one to stand up and blow my own trumpet very much, you know?”
“Ah, Eddie, but you write such wonderful stories and tell them so well. Marvellous.”
“Oh, thank you, Charles. Bless you, but I don't know why, but it feels very different talking about yourself; especially in front of strangers. Well, to me anyway. Well, not so bad if it were just us. I don’t think the stress of losing Pear Tree Cottage helps. I’ve just not been myself lately.”
“Oh Eddie, I'm so sorry to hear you feel that way. We all know you’re not on top form with the worry about home and the erosion and all. We’re all here for you Eddie.”
“I know, thanks, Charles, bless you.”
“You know, I just may be able to put you in touch with someone who can help you; a good friend of mine who is a therapist. He’s becoming quite famous as a counsellor and life coach. He’s had some very famous clients too. He’s coming to live and work in Bearton soon. Would you like me to arrange for you to meet him? He’s terribly good. He’s helped me out with one or two things.”
“Oh Charles, that's very sweet of you, but I think I'd like to try to work this out alone.”
“Well, I'm here if I can help in any way, Eddie. You know that, of course, and I can always put you in touch with my friend if you change your mind later on.”
“Thanks, Charles. Tell me, how did your lecture over in Bearton on hill go?”
Little did the two friends realise that from not so close by, their conversation was being listened to with interest. The listener was employing homemade but brilliant electronic gadgetry to hear it. But the eavesdropper was soon to have his source drowned out, at least for a moment.
Charles had just told Eddie about his lecture when they both became aware of a deep growl, like thunder, growing in volume and coming from just behind Bearton Bump. The Hacklebacks were coming!
Chapter 6 DI Beezaneeza
Just outside a small cave in a shady alcove of Bearton Bump, Detective Inspector Beezaneeza of Bruinton Police Department was engaged in covert operations. DI Barry Beezaneeza, or simply Beeza, as he was known for short, was a bit of a maverick Policebear.
His Chief knew nothing of what Beeza was up to and in fact, it was Beeza’s day off. Beeza was fanatical about his job. He had made it his sole purpose to gain intelligence about the local motorcycle gang and bring anyone found guilty of any kind of misdemeanour to justice. He’d had many dealings with the Hacklebacks, all of whom had so far evaded prosecution. DI Beeza was a little overzealous. He was somewhat misguided, too. In the main, the Hacklebacks were very much a law-abiding bunch. Sure, some members were at times a little wayward but there was no harm intended by any of them and largely they were a group of fellow motorcycle enthusiasts who formed the club purely to share their love of motorcycles and the biking lifestyle in mostly fully lawful ways.
Beeza had other ideas, and he thought himself rather a clever fellow. He believed he was a cut above your average police officer. His superiors had pulled him up many times for operating a little outside of the law. Some of his colleagues called him Dirty Barry, but only when he wasn’t around to hear them. Though, truth to tell, he probably would have been pleased to hear and learn the nickname they had awarded him.
Beeza loved to construct things both intellectual and physical. He was a very good interrogator and an excellent writer of fiction. He was quite clever at inventing and building all sorts of useful gadgets as well. Most of his inventions were designed to aid the progress of the law. Today he had come to Bearton Bump to test out his latest creation, which was so new that he hadn’t even come up with a name for it yet.
Beeza was holding a big cone-shaped object and twiddling a knob while monitoring a needle on a dial. A crackling sound of static came from a speaker and then something that sounded like a Swanee whistle and the device gave a little pop before settling to silence. Then through his headphone, Beeza clearly heard bears speaking.
Beeza beamed all over his face. He had his invention pointed at Salvador’s Beach Cafe nearly a mile away and it was working. Delighted, he actually tried to jump in the air. “Ouch!” he cried. He had tried to click his heels, but his second leg didn’t get off the ground and he just kicked himself in the ankle instead. The strap of his earphones slipped down over his eyes and he let out a rude expletive. When he regained his composure, he pointed his contraption again and got that wonderful sound of chatter. He twiddled another knob, this time on the device in his hand, and found that he could zoom in much more sensitively to pick up just the conversation at a specific table. It was hard to hold the cone-shaped contraption steady for long, but Beeza, the creative wizard, had thought of that beforehand and included a little bracket with a thread so that he could mount the device on a camera tripod. He soon had it set up and pointed towards the cafe.
“She said to me that if I didn’t buck up my ideas she was going to leave me for that Damian down at number 112.” A small adjustment, some more static and Swanee whistling, had the thing squarely aimed away from the soon to be jilted Walter Squalls’ table and realigned on that of Charles and Eddie. Charles was chatting to Eddie about Eddie’s house or something, and his measured tones were coming across beautifully.
“Bingo!” said Beeza, switching his recording device on and settling down in his favourite old and comfy, folding camp chair to munch on a sandwich, thus perfecting the moment. Despite his bruised ankle, Beeza was as near as he could be to bliss.
It was at that moment that the thunder started. When it did, Beeza smiled anew.
End of Sample.
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