The Bold Beasties Clubhouse

Ford had dressed for an important job.

He had straightened his collar, checked both pockets and admired his reflection in a puddle that was, he thought, doing excellent work.

Today he was taking the Clubhouse's little travelling library to the meadow.

The library was a handcart with a striped canopy and a bell. Inside were stories about enormous turnips, tiny dragons and a pirate who was frightened of teaspoons.

Ford rang the bell.

“Books on wheels!”

“And biscuits?” asked Connor.

“Books on wheels,” repeated Ford. “It is a very clear announcement.”

He had, however, packed biscuits.

Richie pulled the cart. Pandora checked the borrowing cards. Madge carried a cushion for anyone who wanted to hear a story sitting down.

At the stream, they stopped.

Yesterday's storm had washed branches against the little footbridge. One plank hung crookedly above the water. A red barrier stood across the path.

Beside it, the groundskeeper was putting away a measuring tape.

“Bridge is closed,” she said. “I'll have the repair team here tomorrow. Please use the path round by the orchard.”

Ford looked at the barrier. He looked at the cart. He looked at the three pieces of string in his pocket.

He put the string back.

Even Ford knew three pieces of string were not a bridge.

“How long is the orchard path?” asked Pandora.

“About twenty minutes more. It's open and dry.”

Twenty minutes.

Their first readers would already be waiting in the meadow.

Ford's collar seemed less straight than before.

“I can think of something,” he said.

His first idea was to carry the books and leave the cart.

Connor lifted one basket. Pandora lifted another. Madge looked at the cushions, canopy, borrowing cards and tin of biscuits.

There were far more things than paws.

They put the baskets down.

His second idea was to send a message across the stream.

The opposite bank was close enough to see, but not close enough to speak without shouting.

“HELLO!” called Richie.

A duck looked up.

“THE LIBRARY WILL BE LATE!”

The duck looked unimpressed.

“I don't think it has a borrowing card,” said Connor.

Ford drew a third idea on the back of a spare card: a pulley line to carry one book at a time.

He made a little model between two twigs on the grass, well away from the closed bridge. A paper basket slid along a loop of string.

“Clever,” said Pandora.

Ford smiled.

Then the model basket tipped upside down.

Its pebble passenger fell out.

Everyone looked at it.

“Less clever,” said Ford.

He could imagine real books tumbling into the stream. The tiny dragons would be soggy. The enormous turnip would be enormous and wet.

He folded up the card.

“Maybe if I had better string—”

Ford tucked the failed drawing beneath his jacket.

“I said I could think of something,” he said. “Now everyone knows I couldn't.”

Madge sat beside the cart.

“I once put my paw up because I was certain of an answer. I was answering a different question.”

“What did you do?”

“Went very hot. Then asked what the question was.”

She nudged the cushion towards him.

“We can think together. What are we trying to do?”

“Get across the stream.”

“Why?”

“To take the books to the readers.”

“Then perhaps the books are the important bit.”

Ford looked at the cart again.

He had been trying to make the journey shorter. He hadn't thought about making the wait better.

“Pandora, could you come with me round the orchard path? We can tell everyone where we are.”

“And the cart?”

“Connor, Richie—would you bring it along after us? You can take your time. We'll need the books in the top basket first.”

Madge lifted her cushion.

“I'll come with you. And I know a story we can tell without a book.”

They told the groundskeeper their plan, then set off together along the open route, with the others following at the cart's pace.

On the orchard path, Ford found himself hurrying.

“You don't have to arrive with all the answers,” said Madge. “I'm glad we're walking together.”

He slowed down enough to walk beside her.

In the meadow, three little rabbits sat under a tree. Beside them stood their grandmother and a very empty space where the library should have been.

Ford took a breath.

“The bridge is broken. The books are coming the long way. I'm sorry we couldn't tell you sooner.”

The smallest rabbit looked at his empty paws.

“No dragons?”

Madge put down her cushion.

“I know one about a dragon who lost his roar.”

The rabbit sat down.

“Was it under his bed?”

“That,” said Madge, “was the first place he looked.”

While she told the story, Pandora found out which books the readers wanted. Ford made little numbered place cards from his spare paper, so nobody had to keep a place in a queue.

Then he tied his three pieces of string between low branches and hung up the pictures the rabbits drew of the dragon.

At last, a bell rang along the orchard path.

“Books on wheels!” called Connor.

Richie brought the cart into the shade.

Ford passed out the requested books. The smallest rabbit chose the tiny dragon story. Her grandmother chose the pirate.

“Teaspoons?” she said. “Really?”

“You'd be surprised,” said Ford.

By afternoon, the meadow had a picture line, a reading circle and a basket of books that everyone had recommended to someone else.

“We should bring the string next time,” said Pandora.

Ford looked at the little dragon drawings fluttering above them.

“I nearly used it to solve the wrong problem.”

The next day, the repair team replaced the damaged bridge plank and checked the rest of the bridge before removing the barrier.

Ford and his friends watched from the path.

“Did you fix the bridge?” asked the smallest rabbit, arriving with her grandmother.

“They did,” said Ford, pointing to the team.

“What did you fix?”

Ford thought about empty paws, a story without a book and a very useful question.

“The library's plans.”

He straightened his collar.

Then he added, “With quite a lot of help.”