Toothy! Read online

  For Ismail – another book for your collection

  ~ D R

  For Laurie and Ed – the best kind of friends

  ~ A M

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Toothy!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  2 Zoom!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  3 Hot!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  Copyright

  CHAPTER 1

  MUNCH! CRUNCH!

  Bertie was back from school and raiding the biscuit tin. Uh-oh! Mum was coming.

  “Put it back, Bertie,” she said. “Don’t forget you’ve got the dentist tomorrow.”

  Bertie’s legs suddenly felt weak. His eyes bulged.

  “The dentist?”

  “Yes,” said Mum. “You and Suzy are due for a check-up.”

  “But … but I went before!” stammered Bertie.

  “That was last year,” said Mum.

  Suzy looked up from her homework.

  “I like going to the dentist,” she said. “Mr Filling says I’ve got perfect teeth.”

  Bertie stuck out his tongue at her.

  “Just ’cos you’re scared,” jeered Suzy.

  “I’m not!” said Bertie.

  “You are!” said Suzy. “Last time Mum had to drag you there.”

  That was a lie, thought Bertie. He’d hung on to the lamp post because he was worried they were early. Besides, it wasn’t his fault that their dentist looked scary. Mr Filling had big hairy hands and mad eyes. He wore a mask over his mouth. Bertie thought he looked like a murderer.

  In any case, there was nothing wrong with his teeth. None of them had fallen out, so why did he have to go? Wait a moment … didn’t Mum say his check-up was tomorrow? He was saved!

  “I can’t go!” he said. “I’ve got school.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Mum. “I dropped a note in to Miss Boot this morning.”

  Bertie groaned.

  “Anyway,” said Mum, “if you clean your teeth you’ve nothing to worry about.”

  “I clean MY teeth!” boasted Suzy.

  Bertie frowned. He did clean his teeth – just not every day. It saved time just to slosh water round his mouth. Now and again he used toothpaste, but mainly for drawing faces on the mirror.

  He ran his tongue over his teeth. Hmm, they did feel a bit furry. What if they were crawling with toothy germs? He might need to have something done – a filling or even a tooth out! Darren said that his dentist pulled teeth out with his bare hands.

  Bertie gulped. He needed to think of an excuse quickly. Wait! Mum said she’d written Miss Boot a note. So what was to stop Miss Boot writing back? Bertie rushed upstairs to find a pencil and paper.

  That should do it, thought Bertie, folding the letter in two.

  He took it downstairs and waited as Mum read it through. She frowned.

  “I see, and Miss Boot wrote this, did she?”

  Bertie nodded. “This afternoon.”

  “Strange,” said Mum. “Her handwriting is exactly like yours.”

  “Um … is it?” said Bertie.

  “Yes,” said Mum. “And she can’t spell her own name.”

  She screwed up the letter and tossed it in the bin.

  “Nice try, Bertie,” she said. “But you are going to the dentist and that’s final.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “Ah, Bertie,” breathed Mr Filling. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Bertie was pushed back into a chair. CLUNK! Iron rings snapped down over his wrists. He was a prisoner.

  “Now, let’s have a look, shall we?” cackled Mr Filling. The mask over his face slipped down, revealing two sharp fangs.

  “ARGHHHHH!”

  Bertie woke up in bed clutching his pillow. He opened his eyes. Thank goodness, it was only a nightmare.

  What day was it today? Just a normal school day – maths, English, then… Bertie turned cold. Then THE DENTIST. HELP!

  Later that day, Bertie sat in the dentist’s waiting room. Suzy yawned. Mum was reading a magazine. None of the other people in the waiting room seemed nervous at all.

  Bertie stared at a poster on the opposite wall. A large smiley tooth said Brush your teeth!

  Bertie wished he was back in school – anything was better than this.

  He slumped back in his chair with a groan.

  “What’s the matter? Scared?” said Suzy.

  “Course not,” said Bertie.

  “You’re such a baby,” said Suzy.

  “I’m not,” scowled Bertie. “And I’m not afraid of the dentist either.”

  “Good,” said Suzy. “Then you won’t mind going first.”

  Bertie turned pale. Go first? Why couldn’t he go last? Or better still go home?

  He gripped his seat. From now on he vowed to clean his teeth ten times a day. He would even use toothpaste. He would give up sweets – apart from jelly snakes, obviously.

  The dental nurse came in. “Bertie and Suzy Burns? Who’s going first?” she asked.

  “Bertie,” said Suzy, pointing to him.

  Bertie got shakily to his feet. This was it. He was a dead man.

  “Good luck!” whispered Suzy. “Don’t wet your pants.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” asked Mum.

  Bertie shook his head. He wasn’t a baby.

  The nurse had gone ahead. Bertie dragged himself down the corridor. Mr Filling’s surgery was the last room on the left. The door was slightly open and he could hear the dentist’s booming voice.

  “Yes, it’s a real shame,” he said. “He’s only seven years old.”

  “Is there nothing you can do?” the nurse asked.

  “Afraid not. It’s the kindest way, he’ll have to be put to sleep.”

  Bertie froze. His blood ran cold. Had he imagined it? No, he’d heard it with his own ears. The dentist was planning to put him to sleep … in other words, bump him off! Bertie gulped. Hadn’t he always said Mr Filling looked like a murderer? That explained why he wore gloves, so he didn’t leave fingerprints!

  Bertie looked around wildly. He could run back and tell his mum. But she’d never believe him. “Mr Filling – a murderer? Don’t be silly, Bertie,” she’d laugh. No, there was only one thing for it – he had to escape. Bertie spotted a cloakroom to his right. He slipped inside and closed the door.

  CHAPTER 3

  Bertie paced up and down, trying to stay calm. He had to get out of here before the mad murderer came for him. The nurse was obviously his evil assistant – she’d probably been hypnotized. Somehow he had to make it past the receptionist without getting caught. But how?

  He looked around. Maybe he could escape through the window? But it was too high up. Or down the toilet? But what if he got stuck? His eye fell on some hats and coats hanging up beside the door. A disguise!

  A minute later, Bertie slipped out of the cloakroom. He was dressed in a big grey overcoat, which dragged on the floor. He had a trilby hat pulled down over his eyes and a scarf wound round his face. He swept down the hall, trying hard not to trip on his coat-tails.

  “Mr Froggat?”

  Bertie halted. Did the receptionist mean him? He looked around. There was no one else about.

  “Mr Froggat, if you’ve got a moment, please?” said the receptionist.

  Bertie shuffled over to the desk, keeping his head down. The hat was too big and kept slipping over his eyes.

  “We just need to book your next appointment,” said the receptionist. “When would you like to come?”

 
Bertie wobbled his head.

  “Umm num num,” he mumbled.

  “Sorry?” said the receptionist.

  Bertie flapped his long sleeves.

  “Umm num num,” he repeated.

  “I see,” nodded the receptionist, who hadn’t understood a word.

  “WHAT ABOUT THE 24th, MR FROGGAT?” she shouted, as if he was deaf. “IT’S A THURSDAY!”

  Bertie nodded. He didn’t care what day it was, as long as he could go. The receptionist scribbled the date on a card and handed it to him.

  “IS THAT ALL RIGHT?” she yelled.

  “Num. Umm num,” mumbled Bertie, taking the card. He hurried away. It was touch and go, but he thought he’d got away with it. All he had to do now was make it down the stairs.

  “Excuse me!”

  A hand tapped him on the shoulder. Argh! It was his mum!

  “Have you seen a small boy?” she asked. “About this big with a runny nose?”

  Bertie shook his head firmly. The hat slipped over his eyes and fell off.

  Uh-oh. There was only one thing to do. Run for it!

  He made a dash for the stairs, but it was no use. Mum had hold of his scarf. She reeled him in.

  “And where do you think you’re off to?” she said.

  CHAPTER 4

  Mum dragged Bertie back down the corridor to the surgery. Mr Filling turned round.

  “Ah, Bertie, found you at last!” he beamed. “Trying to escape, were you? Ha ha!”

  Mr Filling had a round face with eyebrows that danced around like hairy caterpillars. Bertie stared at his big hands.

  “Jump up and have a seat then,” he said, patting the chair. For a murderer he seemed in a pretty good mood.

  Bertie looked back at Mum, who folded her arms. There was no way out. He sat down in the black leather chair. It rose up, humming as it tilted backwards. He found himself staring at pictures of dancing elephants on the ceiling.

  “Okay, young man? Comfortable?” boomed Mr Filling.

  Bertie nodded. His hands were starting to sweat. What was the dentist’s evil plan? A deadly injection? Poisonous mouthwash? Mr Filling’s masked face loomed into view. Bertie stared at his mad eyes.

  “Open wide…” he said, picking up a long silver instrument.

  “YEEEEEAAAARGHH!”

  Bertie leaped from the chair as if he’d been shot from a catapult. He grabbed a giant toothbrush from a display.

  “Keep back or I’ll use it!” he cried.

  Mr Filling’s hairy eyebrows shot skywards. Mum advanced. Bertie bolted out of the door.

  “Bertie! Get back here!” shouted Mum.

  In the hallway, Bertie almost ran into the receptionist. He swerved left and burst into the waiting room. People looked up from their magazines in surprise.

  “Hide me!” Bertie panted, waving his toothbrush.

  Suzy rolled her eyes. “What are you on about?”

  “Quick, he’s coming! He’s going to murder me!”

  Footsteps came down the hallway. There was no time to argue. Bertie ducked behind the curtains and pulled them around him. He stood there, trying not to breathe.

  Mr Filling, Mum and the dental nurse marched in.

  “Where is he?” demanded Mum.

  Suzy sighed. She pointed to the curtain where two dirty trainers were poking out.

  Mum went over and yanked it back.

  “Bertie, what are you playing at?” she cried.

  “Don’t let him get me!” begged Bertie.

  “Who?”

  “Mr Filling! He’s a murderer!”

  A gasp went up. Every head in the waiting room turned to look at the dentist.

  Mr Filling laughed weakly. “What are you talking about? I just want to examine your teeth!”

  “I heard you,” said Bertie. “I heard you say you were going to put me to sleep.”

  Mr Filling looked baffled. Then it came back to him. “OH! I was talking about Rex,” he laughed.

  “Rex?”

  “Yes, my dog. He’s very ill and the vet says it’s kindest to put him to sleep.”

  The heads all turned back to Bertie.

  “Oh, I see … your dog,” he mumbled.

  Mum marched over and grabbed him. “Now, can we please get this over with?” she said.

  Bertie lay back in the dentist’s chair while Mr Filling examined his teeth. It wasn’t my fault, he thought. Anyone can make a mistake.

  Mr Filling took off his mask.

  “There, all done,” he said.

  Bertie blinked. That was it? No injections? No fillings? He hadn’t felt a thing. He sat up, feeling a bit foolish. Suzy would never let him forget this. Wait till the story got round school – Bertie hiding from the dentist. He’d never hear the last of it. “Scaredy-cat! Cowardy custard!” they’d call after him.

  “Your teeth are fine,” said Mr Filling. “Just don’t forget to clean them.”

  Bertie climbed down from the chair.

  “I’m sorry about … you know … before,” he mumbled.

  Mr Filling laughed.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m used to nervous patients. Your sister used to be the worst.”

  “Suzy?” said Bertie. This was news to him.

  “Oh, yes, she used to scream if I came near her,” smiled Mr Filling. “I had to give her Mr Teddikins to cuddle.” He pointed to a large, goggle-eyed teddy bear in the corner.

  Bertie smiled to himself. Mr Teddikins, eh? Wait till the next time Suzy called him a cry baby. She was never going to tease him again!

  CHAPTER 1

  Mum burst into the kitchen excitedly.

  “The holiday’s booked!” she said. “And we’re flying out!”

  Suzy whooped. Dad groaned. Bertie almost fainted. Had he heard right? Was he dreaming?

  “Flying?” he said.

  “That’s right,” said Mum.

  “On a plane?”

  “Of course on a plane, how else?”

  “WAHOO!”

  Bertie had never flown in his life. Loads of his friends had been on planes. Eugene said it was amazing. They showed films and brought you free drinks! Royston Rich claimed he’d been up in his dad’s private jet. But Bertie had never even been to an airport. Whenever they’d talked about flying, Dad always found an excuse.

  “Is Whiffer coming?” asked Bertie.

  “Dogs aren’t allowed on planes,” said Dad. “Now, on the car ferry—”

  “Don’t start,” sighed Mum wearily. “We agreed.”

  “Where are we sitting? Can I sit next to the pilot?” asked Bertie.

  “No,” said Dad firmly. “You sit where you’re told.”

  Bertie didn’t think Dad sounded that thrilled to be going on a plane. But he was. Wait till he told Darren and Eugene!

  “When do we go?” asked Suzy.

  “In half term. That’s three weeks,” said Mum.

  THREE WHOLE WEEKS! That was ages! Bertie didn’t think he could wait that long.

  “EEEEOWWW!” he cried, taking off and zooming round the kitchen. He swooped down at supersonic speed, then trod in Whiffer’s bowl and skidded…

  “Yarghhh!”

  CRASH!

  “BERTIE!” yelled Dad.

  Bertie scrambled to his feet. Honestly, some people were so touchy!

  CHAPTER 2

  Three weeks later, the great day finally dawned. Bertie was so excited he’d been dressed since 5 a.m. His bag had been packed for weeks. He had everything he needed for the flight: sweets, comics, his Jumbo Jet Sticker Book and more sweets, in case he ran out.

  At the airport, Dad loaded the cases on to a trolley and they went inside. Bertie hurried past the shops and cafés.

  “Can we get on the plane now?” he said. “I want to get a good seat.”

  Suzy rolled her eyes. “It’s not going for hours! We need tickets.”

  “Yes,” said Mum. “First we have to check in and get our boarding passes.”

  The queue at the desk tailed
back for about a mile. Bertie stared in horror.

  “What? We’ve got to wait behind all these people?” he groaned.

  “I’m afraid so,” sighed Mum.

  “But we’ll miss the plane! Why can’t we go to that desk?”

  He pointed to the next one, where no one was waiting.

  “That’s not our airline,” said Dad. “We’re flying with Cheapy Jet.”

  They joined the queue and waited as it shuffled forward at a snail’s pace.

  “Can I push the trolley?” begged Bertie.

  “No,” said Dad.

  “But Suzy’s had her turn!”

  “Don’t argue!” snapped Dad.

  Bertie let go of the trolley. Dad had been in a bad mood since breakfast.

  After half an hour they reached the desk and got their boarding passes. Next they queued at Passport Control. Then they joined the end of the snaking line at security. Finally, they had to wait an hour at the gate because their flight was delayed. Bertie couldn’t believe catching a plane took so long. With buses you just got on!

  At long last it was time to board. Bertie hurtled up the steps.

  “Bags I sit by the window!” he cried, racing down the gangway. There were three seats to a row. Bertie plonked himself down by the window and took out his sweets.

  “Who’s sitting with Bertie?” asked Dad.

  “You can,” said Mum, quickly. “I’ll sit behind with Suzy.”

  Dad sank into his seat. Bertie was staring out of the window, sucking a fruity chew. At last, this was it – he was actually going to fly!

  “Aren’t you excited?” he asked, bouncing up and down.

  “Not really,” said Dad. “Fasten your seatbelt.”