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| 8. Watch out for the stairs! |
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Professor Dunlambert burped...a big, bacon-flavoured one that sent Fergus into a belly-bursting giggle.
'Oh, excuse me, p...lease!' she said as she rubbed her own belly, making sure there wasn't another on its way.
The giggling woke everyone in the house.
'Odd!' muttered Fergus, hearing footsteps from upstairs, because as far as he knew, no one else lived in the castle.
'Ah...' the professor began, '...I think perhaps you and I need to have a little chat, Fergus.'
Upstairs, Ben Madigan swung both feet out of bed and onto the cold, wooden floor. The dog with no name raised its one and only working ear towards the giggling from below.
Ben had slept well - hardly surprising, after his diabetic incident and long journey from the previous day. He stretched his arms and looked lazily out of the corner of one eye at the dog.
The dog stretched lazily and looked out of one eye back at Ben.
Ben shook his head in disbelief at how human the dog seemed.
The dog shook his head in reply, and then his whole body followed, like he'd just had a bath and was shaking the water off.
Ben walked across the room to where the light was belting in through the curtains. He swung them open and couldn't believe his eyes.
Before him stretched the longest, widest garden he'd ever seen.
Apple trees, pear trees, tomato plants, lettuce patches, cabbage patches; a gardener's dream.
Yet even from so far up in the castle, Ben could see that all wasn't quite right with the colours.
The tomatoes weren't as red as they should be at this time of year; the lettuces and cabbages weren't green enough; and the trees didn't have nearly enough fruit on the branches.
He quickly threw on his clothes and rushed to the stairs. The dog with no name went bounding after him.
But the dog's nails hadn't been clipped for some time, and as he went skidding along the wooden floor, Ben grabbed his tail.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, until the dog suddenly stopped. And Ben - with no shoes on - somersaulted right over him...down the first five stairs, crashing into the kitchen door. Then bouncing on the last five before landing outside in the garden.
Fergus and the professor jumped from the kitchen table and ran to where Ben lay in a crumpled heap.
'Quick!' shouted Professor Dunlambert, 'Hold his head and neck steady. Don't let him move!'
Ben Madigan moaned. He was conscious all the time, but a little groggy all the same. And as Fergus held his head and neck steady,
Professor Dunlambert checked his whole body thoroughly, without moving him from where he lay.
'No injuries, you lucky man,' she tutted, helping him to his feet. 'Next time be more careful. Wooden floors and stocking feet are a recipe for disaster.'
She set some toast and sugar-free marmalade spread on the table.
'Breakfast, Mr Madigan?'
Fergus looked on from nearby. He still hadn't been introduced, yet somehow he felt he'd met this Mr Madigan before.
'Oh yes please,' Ben answered. 'And then we'll have to have a chat.'
'Well, yes,' added the professor, 'but I haven't had a chance to explain to Fergus yet.'
She looked at Fergus. She looked a little guilty.
'Explained what to me, exactly?' Fergus asked.
Ben almost choked on his first bite of toast. He'd never heard the goose speak before; Professor Dunlambert had explained the previous night how Fergus had somehow become real enough to save lives, but she'd forgotten to mention he had a real voice.
'And by the way Mr Madigan,' Fergus added, 'shouldn't you be checking your blood sugar levels and taking your insulin BEFORE you eat that toast?'
Ben almost choked on his second bite of toast. Shocked that he'd forgotten to do the test. And shocked at how clever his little goose friend had become.
Fergus almost choked too. What on earth could have made him think this complete stranger was diabetic?
Professor Dunlambert quietly sipped her cranberry tea and winked at Ben. She was proud of her little superhero.
Ben Madigan checked his sugar level; it was fine.
He gave himself an insulin injection without any fuss, and then woofed down a hearty breakfast.
While he was doing so, he explained where he and Fergus had met before. He filled Fergus in on all the mishaps he'd suffered, trying to escape from the Fire Service and Police golf teams.
The memories started flooding back. Obviously Fergus had picked up all his first aid knowledge during the years he'd sat on the grass outside the ambulance station.
The years listening to the paramedics talking, watching them practice, hadn't been wasted.
He even remembered Ben Madigan, the hospital groundsman, cutting the grass around his webbed feet.
Ben and Fergus paused. They smiled at the memories.
Professor Dunlambert broke the silence with another burp; a sausage-flavoured one this time.
'Oops! Excuse me.'
They all screwed their faces up. They all laughed. Until, once again, the professor interrupted.
'The thing is though, Fergus, Mr. Madigan didn't just happen to be passing last night. And he has plans of his own I'm afraid.'
Silence.
'What is it?' asked Fergus anxiously. 'What plans? Do you have to leave already Mr. Madigan?'
'Well actually...' the professor started.
'Well actually,' Ben butted in, 'I was wondering about your garden Professor. And please, call me "Ben".'
'What about my garden, Ben? Oh, and you can call me "prof".'
'The thing is, Prof, if you don't mind me saying, it is in a bit of a sorry state.'
'Well I know that! I can't be brilliant at everything, you know. And besides, what's that got to do with your plans for Fergus?'
'Quite right!' said Fergus. 'What's that got to do with me? Her garden was a sorry mess before I got here. It isn't my fault!'
Ben reminded them that part of his job at the hospital was to maintain the gardens. There may not have been any fruit or vegetable patches at Moss Abbey, but oh, how he'd always wished there was.
And now he had some time on his hands, he'd love to get them well and truly dirty in Stepminder Castle.
And suddenly Professor Edna Dunlambert had stumbled across yet another unlikely rescuer.
They never did tell Fergus what Ben's previous plan had been.
Watch out for the next blog...coming soon.
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