The Famous Five Reunited with Friends

Chapter 9: What is wrong with the fair-folk?

  Bufflo grinned lazily at them. He held out his hand to Julian.

  "Well, look who it is! Good to see you. To Faynights, sir?"

  "But... Bufflo... how? Why aren't you doing your fair business?" Richard stammered.

  "You seriously think that a fair is still around nowadays? No, no, it's all band gigs and Ed Sheeran these days! Us old fair-folk do stick around together, though. And we're only in Montley village, which is right next to Faynights. Are you staying in the old field?"

  "Oh, no. We're staying in the Faynights Hotel." Anne piped up. Bufflo whistled.

  "Posh! Us fair-folk, we still stay in those old rattling caravans. The owners of the field, they let us stay in there and welcome. You must come up and see us while you're here. They'll all remember you, of course. We still remind each other of your adventure with that Terry-Kane fellow... and the posh tap dancer gets out your old books and tells us about your previous adventures around the campfire."

  "Well! That is extraordinary! We never knew our books were as popular as that, Bufflo. Do kids actually still read about us?" Richard said dreamily, imagining himself as something more than a local celebrity.

  "No idea. Let's go."

  Half an hour later....

  "Here we are, sirs and madam!" Bufflo announced, winking at George. George grinned in reply.

  "Thank you, Bufflo. We'll be sure to drop in on you soon. Where are you staying?"

  "In Farmer Ellis' field, right next to the petrol station. There's only one in Montley, so you'll see us. I'll tell Skippy to make something for you all."

  With that, Bufflo helped them unload their luggage and bikes, saluted, turned his car around and drove off. The Five were in a state of excitement as they hauled suitcases through the double doors. They were whisked away to their room and for a while, forgot about Bufflo. But as they made a cups of tea with the exciting little complimentary kettle and tea sachets, they all remembered once again and sat exclaiming about the coincidence as Richard munched his way through the free biscuits.

  "I think that before our evening meal, we should go up to visit them. It will be such fun, seeing them after so long." Anne suggested.

  Julian was a little less optimistic.

  "What if some of them don't remember us? We don't want them to be all unfriendly towards us like they were initially."

  "Why would they be? We're no longer kids, they have no canaries to be set free, and we know them anyhow." George said, dragging Timothy away from the steaming kettle before he pounced on it.

  "True. In that case, I'm all for it. He didn't say a time, so hopefully they won't object to us turning up out of the blue."

  Two hours later...

  Panting, they dismounted their bikes in the semi-darkness. It wasn't hard to spot the field where the campers were, as there was a bright fire and the smell of bonfire and cigarrette smoke made the air heavy around them. Guffaws could be heard from the field. Wheeling their bikes, they edged through the sludgy puddles around the edge of the field.

  "Hallo-o-o-o-o!" Julian yodelled. His voice echoed and the whole camp fell silent.

  "Who'sssss there?" a familiar voice purred, just audible. Anne was instantly reminded of a pantomime villian and let George overtake her. Timothy growled threateningly but his tail wagged at the very tip.

  "You go away! We don't want no trouble, nor no tresspassers!" another voice yelled.

  "Nor us! Do you not remember us? Bufflo? Where are you?" Julian shouted. Just then, someone exited one of the caravans and waved madly.

  "It's all right, people! It's the Five! Remember them?" Bufflo told his people at top volume as he descended down the steps.

  "Oh! The Five!" came half a dozen voices all at once. The Five were waved over. Sensing that the tension in the air had disappeared, Timothy stopped growling and pulled on his lead, smelling something cooking.

  The fair-folk welcomed them with open arms. Almost none of them had changed. It was only the rubber-man that looked a little worn and scratched and dented. It was understandable, if he really was made of rubber. Evidently the living out-of-doors had done these people the world of good, because they looked healthy and happy.

  The Five looked around excitedly, grinning away. Only Timothy put his nose in the air - not to be rude but to catch a whiff of whatever was bubbling in the pot over the campfire.

  "I had a feeling that you'd come before dinner, so I've cooked enough for everyone!" Skippy declared, holding aloft a ladle. Mr Slither put a pile of plates next to the campfire and without further ado, Skippy began serving up a stew while the rubber-man carefully decanted something alcoholic - gin, by the looks of it - into small glasses. There was lively conversation as everybody - even Timothy - tucked in. Richard was instantly transported back to their previous stay in Faynights, where Mrs Alfredo had cooked a very similar and equally delectable stew.

  "My, Skippy! You are a fine cook," Richard complimented her "just like old Mrs Alfredo!"

  The noise cut out like a telephone wire and the majority of the fair-folk scowled. Richard nervously looked around. Even Bufflo had frozen, a spoonful of stew mid-way to his mouth. He put it back on his plate and composed himself.

  "We generally don't talk about... them these days, Richard, old guy." he said, as gently as a man with a very intimidating bark could. He fiddled with the lash of his whip. "It's a long story, but it would be best not to mention those people again. That fire-eater, his wife, and Jekky the rope-man are all out-of-bounds in terms of conversation, understand?"

  Astounded, Richard nodded, followed by Julian, Anne and George as Bufflo glared at them. Conversation started up slowly again, with the odd unfavourable glance thrown in Richard's direction. The Five were puzzled. What was going on?