Step aside Earthlings there’s a new girl in town: Cora ROMhat

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Carrickfergus – October 2021

THE SPACE HOPPER

A shortish story featuring Andy Ryan and his bonkers gran

She’s completely bonkers, my granny. You’ve no idea of the tales we’ve heard over the years. Talking dogs. Spaceships. Dogs in spaceships. Robots taking over the planet. Visitors from outer space. Mice in boots. Mountains made from nothing but teeth. Seriously. You name it, she’s got a story about it.

So here I am on a quiet Sunday afternoon, sitting at her dining table. I’m doing my English homework. Another essay.

A voice calls from the kitchen, ‘Andy, Andy, come ‘ere. Quick.’

I step into the hallway. Bracing myself for whatever gobbledygook is coming next. I glance at the photos on the wall for good luck. A picture of mum and dad on their wedding day hangs alongside a family portrait. Mum, dad, my brother Eoin, and me. It’s old. Like everything else in M’Granny’s house. Eoin was only around six and I was four.

‘Andy!’

‘Yes Gran.’ I step into the kitchen. ‘What is it?’ I am too exasperated to shout.

‘Eh? What? It’s the mice.’

I groan. Oh no, not again.

‘Where?’ I am almost yelling. Resigned.

‘Look,’ she points a bony finger at the floor. ‘See there. Droppings. Mice dirt.’

‘Gran, it’s just crumbs. Honest.’ I try to reassure her. As usual she’s having none of it.

‘Andy. I know what it is,’ she admonishes me, waving a rolling pin. ‘They’re forever charging round this place. I hear them all the time. And they leave their mice dirt everywhere. I see it all the time. I’m not daft you know. I hear them. I hear them scurrying around all night. They keep me awake you know.’

I try not to smirk. Blind as a bat and deaf as a post she is. The mice dirt must be the size of cow pats if she can see it and they must be wearing hob nailed boots or riding motorbikes if she reckons she can hear them.

‘Look Gran,’ I am over enunciating so she can read my lips. Hopeful. ‘I’m trying to finish my essay. I need to get it done for school tomorrow. I’ll come back later and help you look. Promise.’

I leave her standing in the kitchen brandishing her wooden rolling pin like a machete. A long sigh navigates me back to the table.

I sit down.

It’s not there. The homework. It’s not there. Where is it? What have I done with it? There’s nobody else in the house. How can it have disappeared?

I check under the table. I must have knocked it over. Nope. Nothing. Strange. I scan the room. Maybe I’ve set it down somewhere without thinking. There’s an old lavender coloured bed settee in the corner. I pick up the cushions, flick them around, check down the back. Nope. Puzzled, I look around again. No sign.

‘Gran?’ I yell.

She appears in the doorway, still holding the rolling pin. ‘What son?’

‘Have you seen my homework?’ I speak slowly. More over exaggerated lip movements.

She looks me in the eye. ‘Maybe the dog ate it.’

‘Why would the dog eat my homework?’

‘Because it’s hungry.’

‘What are you talking about Gran? We don’t even have a dog.’

‘It’s what we used to say at school when we didn’t do our homework,’ she said. She nods. ‘The dog ate it,’ she says again. Then she titters to herself.

I just about prevent my eyes from rolling in my head. It’s like trying to swim through treacle. ‘Have you seen it Gran? Did you move it?’ I hold eye contact with her. Trying to stare her out.

I know she couldn’t possibly have, though. We were together in the kitchen. But I know I must ask.

She has a strange glint in her eye. I know trouble when I see it. There is it. Right in front of me.

‘I know where it is,’ she says.

‘Where?’ I sigh.

‘There’s a place.’

‘What? What kind of place?’ I’m really not in the mood for her nonsense.

‘The place where all the things that have disappeared go to. You know. Odd socks, teaspoons, keys, pens, umbrellas, loose change, glasses-’

‘Gran! I really haven’t time for this,’ my voice has risen a decibel. ‘It’s really important.’ I am almost whining now.

‘Nooo, nooo, it’s trrrruuue,’ she says, nodding her head again, elongating every word. She sounds like a fortune teller reading a crystal ball.

I just have to ask. Don’t I? I really should know better by now.

‘Where to? Where do they go?’

‘Faaaar away. Faaaar faaaar awaaaay. To a certain place.’ She twirls her hand in the air in some vague direction.

‘Far away. Mmm. Fascinating.’ I’ve descended into sarcasm. ‘And where is this certain place?’

‘I’ll show you.’ She lurches towards the hallway. I hear her opening the cupboard below the family photos.

While she’s gone, I use the opportunity to inspect the room again. Just in case. Just checking. Beneath cushions again. Behind flowerpots. In cabinet drawers. Under the mat. I know it’s odd but it’s no more far-fetched than M’Granny’s latest yarn is going to be. That much I do know.

When I look up, she’s holding a huge, inflated orange rubber ball. It has ears. Wobbly, twirly sort of ears. Like handles sticking out of its head. And a painted-on face. Black eyes, nose, smiley mouth. Are those whiskers? Some kind of animal? Not like any animal I’ve ever seen.

‘Here, this’ll take you,’ she announces. She holds it out towards me.

My heart sinks. She’s getting worse. This is just too much. Barmy. She’s gone completely barmy.

‘What’s that thing supposed to be, Gran?’

‘A space hopper. It’ll take you there.’

‘Where?’

‘Through the worm hole.’

My shoulders slump. Worm hole. As if M’Granny would know anything about a worm hole. She’s 81 for goodness sake. Did they even use the term worm hole in her day? Some neurons at the back of my mind fired up. Something about a theoretical physicist called John Archibald Wheeler using the term for the first time. In 1957. Wow, I didn’t even know I knew that.

‘And where does this worm hole go?’ I know I’m going to be sorry I asked.

‘I’ve told you Andy. To the place where all the stuff is. The stuff that goes missing. It’s all collected in one place. Your homework will be there.’

So, she wants me to get on the space hopper and hop around to find my homework? Right. Of course she does. It’s M’Granny. Why not. Resignation takes hold. What’s the point in trying to reason with her? None. No point. The sooner I get this over with the better.

I take the space hopper, grab its ears, and plop myself down on it.

‘No. No. Don’t be daft,’ she says. ‘You need to go outside.’

‘Gran, it’s November. It’s freezing. I’m a 14 year old boy for goodness sake. People will see me. Can’t we just do it in here?’

‘Not enough room.’ She nods sagely. An expert in insanity.

I sigh. I slide off. Picking it up by the ears, I carry it into the back garden.

‘Right. Now what?’ I say.

‘Just get on it and start hopping. It’ll take you to the place. I can’t say its name. The shock will kill you.’

Right. The shock will kill me. As if her behaviour wasn’t barmy enough. Kill me now.

For a quiet life, I do what she asks. I climb back on the space hopper. I’d seen them on the internet. People seemed to just bob up and down on them like some kind of a seated trampoline.

I self-consciously begin to bounce on the space hopper. Each bounce goes higher and higher. You’ll never believe this; I can hardly believe it myself… but suddenly it shoots through the air. Oh yes, I was hyperventilating. I wonder if I’ve fallen asleep at the table, and this is some kind of bizarre dream. Otherwise, it could only mean one thing. I’m insane. It’s hereditary!

Nope. It would appear not.

It continues to lift. Higher and higher. My head bumps through the clouds. No. This is impossible. I should be suffocating. I shouldn’t be able to breathe at such a height. At over 6,000 metres I’m in the death zone. What’s happening? I should be dead by now.

Wake up. Wake up now. I tell myself.

Nothing.

I’d try to pinch myself, but I can’t let go of the ears. It’s moving so fast that I’m hanging on for dear life.

Suddenly everything turns black. I close my eyes. I don’t want to see what’s coming next. I can still feel movement.

Eventually it stops. I am afraid to open my eyes. I start with one. I am met by a blue coloured surface. I open the other, just to check. Yes, it’s true. Numb from shock, I slide off the space hopper. My mouth is wide open but probably not as wide as my eyes. Oh, this is definitely a dream. It must be. A nightmare. I haven’t got time for this.

The landscape is a mixture of flat ground and mountains. Some kind of hazy mantle covers the ground.

I wonder what kind of mushrooms M’Granny had put in the lunchtime risotto. Was the milk off again? This is one seriously mega hallucination.

Looking around I see a figure. Is it a man? An alien? No. Not possible. It’s not that I don’t believe in them, I just came here on a space hopper for goodness sake. My imagination is going crazy. It is a humanoid figure though. Might be human. Well, sort of. Shakily I jog in its direction.

‘Um, hello?’ I say. Great with words, that’s me.

‘What-ho young chap!’

Sliding a pair of goggles over its forehead it pushes them back over what turns out to be a leather flying hat. It’s a pilot. I recognise the leather flying jacket and trousers. And the strange scarf made from some kind of netting. I’ve seen photos of them. Grandad in his flying suit. It’s an old RAF uniform.

I step a bit closer. I can see his handlebar moustache, the ends twirled over each cheek.

‘I say. Did you come through the wormer young man? Jolly good show. We haven’t had a visitor for ages.’

‘Where am I?’ My voice crackles like dried out paper.

‘Uranus.’

‘Your-?’

‘The planet Uranus. It’s on this end of the worm hole from Earth.’

My mouth is wide open. I can’t seem to close it. Here I am, clutching a space hopper and this man is telling me I’m standing on a planet a couple of billion miles away from Earth.

Galvanising my magnificent command of the English language once again, I manage another question. ‘Why do I not feel cold then?’

‘Scientific sort of chap, are you?’

‘Sort of. I know Uranus is said to be cold.’ Did I really just say that?

‘Well, this planet doesn’t generate much heat but there’s an equilibrium created by the ring system. It creates a barrier that prevents heat from escaping so we have the perfect temperature. Like a jolly great air conditioner. Haw haw.’

‘What am I doing here?’ I hope for some sense. Not expecting much.

‘Have you lost something?’

‘What?’

‘Lost something. People only come here when they’ve lost something.’

Baffled, I nod.

‘Well, this is Uranus young man. As I said, it’s at the end of the worm hole from the Earth. When you’re looking for something that’s usually where it is. It’s at Uranus.’

I weigh him up. Is he crazy? He surely looks crazy in his weird get-up.

‘Who are you?’ I try.

‘Oh sorry. Jolly bad show not introducing myself. Flapper Maguire. Wing Commander Flapper Maguire. At your service.’ He clicks his heels together and salutes.

‘Have you lost something Wing Commander Maguire?’ I know the answer to this one all right. He’s lost his marbles.

‘No. No young man. I haven’t lost something. It’s me. I’m lost. Happened in 1943 over Bermuda. My plane got into what I thought was thick fog and before I knew it, it was tally-ho Earth, what-ho Uranus.’

‘You’ve been here since 1943?’

‘Indeed, I have. There’s a group of us around the place. Poor old Dave Corby only went out to fetch a loaf of bread in 1975 and never made it home. Fell into a worm hole somewhere.’

‘There are more of you?’ To say I am flabbergasted is an understatement.

‘Yes, of course. You don’t think it’s just me here on my own do you? People and things. This is the place where you’ll find everything that’s ever gone missing.’

I look around properly for the first time. Hills. Valleys. A lake. I look again. The mountain is a hotch-potch of strange colours. What? It’s made out of odd socks. A mountain of odd socks. I’d laugh if it wasn’t so serious. The smaller mountain is shiny metal. Teaspoons? And what I thought at first glance was a rippling lake is not filled with water. Its contents are brightly coloured metal and glass. Watches. Gazillions of watches.

My brain hurts. My head starts to pound.

‘Ahoy there me ole mucker.’

I spin 180 degrees towards the voice. A man comes hobbling towards us. One leg is not a leg. It’s a wooden stalk with a broad top, into which fits his knee.

‘Splasher,’ says Maguire.

‘Captain Splasher to you Wing Commander. Who be this young whippersnapper?’

Wing Commander Maguire pulls his flying goggles back over his eyes. He must think it makes him look more important or something.

‘This is- oh jolly bad form young man, I didn’t even get your name,’ he says, slapping the side of his flying helmet with one hand.

‘Andy Ryan,’ I tell them.

The second man offers his hand. I shake it. This might be some kind of weirdo fest, but I still have manners.

‘Captain Seymour Splasher o’ the Exodus. One minute I be headin’ for the West Indies, havin’ problems wi’ me ole bilge pump. Next, I be lookin’ at a vast mountain o’ teeth. Twas 1905. Been here since.’

‘Why are you all still here?’ I say, trying not to think about the idea of a mountain of teeth.

‘None ever came fer us laddie,’ says Splasher.

My heart dropped like a stone. ‘Do you mean I can’t get back to M’Granny’s house unless someone comes for me? But how could they get here? They couldn’t even know where I am.’

Nausea rises in my gullet towards my tight chest. I really am beginning to panic.

‘Oh, you can go young chap. You can. You see it’s not you who’s lost. It’s something belonging to you that’s lost. You’ve only come to fetch it,’ offers Maguire.

‘Ye don’t wish to stay?’ Splasher seems surprised. ‘Tis a great place. Thar’s much treasure in these ‘ere parts. Treasures o’ metal. Long distance parrots, wallets, coins. I could go on-’

I knew he could. Just like M’Granny.

‘They all come down the Rubbish Chute. The RC hole. The RC hole of the solar system travels to Uranus. There’s an RC hole on every planet. Lots of goodies for us all here. You never know what will turn up.’ Maguire is still trying to explain.

Never ever in my life do I wish so much that I was back in M’Granny’s kitchen listening to her tales. Hang on a minute. If M’Granny had the space hopper… and M’Granny knew so much…? No. No. I shake my head. Trying to reject the thought. It couldn’t be. Could it? No. She couldn’t have. Could she?

‘Um, Wing Commander Maguire? You’ve been here since 1943, right?’

‘Right-ho young chap!’

‘So, do you remember ever seeing anyone here before with one of these?’ I hold up the space hopper so he can have a closer look. He pushes the goggles off his eyes and up onto his head. If only he knew how fashionable that look would become in later years.

‘Let me think now… Mmm, well a few years after I arrived there was a young filly carrying one of those things around for a while. Looking for a teddy. Boris I think it was called.’ He thought hard. ‘Shirley? Sable? Mabel. That’s it. Mabel. A friend of yours?’

That would have been one seriously old friend. ‘No, she’s M’Granny. But how would she have gotten back home?’

‘Oh that be science stuff,’ says Splasher.

Maguire nods his head. ‘You’d need someone with a scientific background to help you with that young chap.’

I look around. Forlorn. Almost hopeless. Almost. ‘Could you suggest anyone?’

The men look at each other and nod slowly.

‘Best kept secret in the universe lad,’ says Splasher. ‘Come with us.’

Dragging my space hopper, I follow the comrades. Wow. I can’t believe what I am seeing. A rainbow forest of coloured pens. The biggest tree I have ever seen, swinging with women’s purses. It is actually quite breathtaking. More mountains. A mountain of apostrophes. I’m sure of it. And another completely crafted with glasses. Spectacles that is. I am certain there are quite a number of items belonging to M’Granny in there. And cat collars. How many cats have lost their collar? Enough to manufacture miles and miles of decorative fencing. That’s how many.

I am shocked to the core when a house made entirely out of mobile phones looms before us. They are stacked on top of each other like building bricks. An awesome sight. As I stop and stare, I actually forget about getting back home for a minute.

The door opens and the occupant steps outside.

Oh no. Oh no. My breath catches in my throat. I’m hyperventilating. It can’t be. No. No. No way. No. I must be mistaken. It couldn’t be.

‘ Zdravstvuj, I’m L-’

‘-Laika,’ I finish for her. ‘Please tell me that you really are Laika,’ I whisper. ‘Please tell me you didn’t die. I can feel my heart flip over inside my chest.’

‘You know me?’

‘The world knows you. The first dog in space. We thought you were dead.’

‘Dead, no. Peed off, yes. Zey didn’t even care.’

I can hardly speak. ‘You have been here for 60 years? Since 1957?’

‘Yes. I hev dun much trafel. I hev had advenchures. Many advenchures. Com eenside.’

I walk through the doorway and into the house. Laika’s house. No. Really. I must be dreaming. Laika’s house. Ha ha. Hold it together Andy for goodness sake.

She jumps onto a bean bag and I take a seat on a Louis XIV dining chair. What strange things people lose.

‘Ze Sputnik 2. Et orbets ze Earth five months. I vud not hev survifed if it did not bomp into vurm hole. I vas knocked out off ze ship and landed here. Ze Sputnik carried on orbet five months vivout me. Wen it burnt up in orbet, I vas not zere. I vas gone.’

At this stage, I have completely forgotten I had ever wanted to go home. I have even forgotten I have a home. All there is, is Laika. Laika. Imagine. The first dog in space… and me. I am overwhelmed. This brave little dog. I can’t wait to tell Eoin she’s still alive. My eyes feel prickly when I think about my brother. I wish he was here.

But I had things to tell Laika. Important stuff.

‘They were so cruel. At first, they lied and said you would have died painlessly after a week but eventually they admitted the truth. They admitted they knew you couldn’t survive. The whole world was outraged.’ What a wonderful feeling it is to tell this brave little mongrel that people on her home planet cared deeply about what had happened to her.

‘I hev had many advenchures I voud not hev had on Earth.’

Wow. This dog is actually looking at the upside of what happened.

She tells me amazing stories of how she was able to travel by hitching rides on spaceships from nearby planets. She had been adopted by a family from Saturn who brought her back to their home.

‘Ze little children ver so happy to hev ze dog. Ze hev no dogs un Saturn. Ze ver ze envy of all ze frends. But zen I vas stolen by robots from Skorbot. I vorked in ze resistance to free ze planet from zem. Ve find ve can melt zem wif ze liquid. Ve hose them.’

‘You hosed the robots? To kill them?’ My eyes must be like saucers by now.

‘Zey very evil.’ She nods, lending brevity to her words. ‘Zen I vent to Neptune. Zey make me queen. I rule ze planet for a while.’

‘Queen? Really? Then what happened?’

‘I get, how you say, fed op?’

‘Fed up?’ I supply.

‘Mmm. I trafel to other planet by stow avay. But zen I find et ruled by evil cat people. Wif shiny collars. I haf to fight zem off. Zey try kill me wif ze metal clawse. Is like talonic irritashun. But hose no vork on zem. Had to escape in spesheep. I haf to pilot. Gud job I know how to pilot Sputnik.’

‘You piloted the Sputnik?’ I can’t believe it. ‘Wow. They kept that a big secret.’

‘Zen I com back ere. Is quiet. Peasfull.’

There was silence for a moment.

‘Laika? Do you know if I’ll ever be able to get home again?’ I ask her.

‘Yes. Off corse. You com ere to look fore somtheen? You have ze spess hupper. Iss transporter, yes? It knows ze vay back home.’

‘I’ve lost my homework,’ I say. Suddenly remembering why I’m actually here.

‘You need to find before you ken leaf,’ she tells me.

‘Where should I even begin to look?’

‘Very many homvorks here. Ve find et.’

Laika walks back to the door. Dragging the space hopper behind, I follow her. We hike through a rainbow field of scrunched up colours. Tissues. Paper tissues. She starts to sniff. Of course she does. She’s a dog. I’d almost forgotten that’s what they do. Changing direction we move towards a ski slope. It’s made entirely from children’s homework.

I laugh. ‘Best use for homework I’ve ever seen,’ I tell her.

She climbs up the pile, very steady on her feet. She’s done this before.

‘I com ere much times. Is good fun to slide. Try.’

I set the space hopper on the ground and run up the slope. On a quick spin I fling myself onto my bottom and slide down the pile of papers. She’s right. It is great fun. I run up and do it again. And again. And again.

By this time Laika has been all over the pile, sniffing and shuffling around.

‘Ere it es. I thenk this it.’ She picks it up in her mouth.

I run back up the slope and balance beside her. Gently I take it from her. It looks a bit grubby. Although, apart from a few teeth marks it looks exactly like it did when I left it on M’Granny’s table. M’Granny! I hear her words echo in my head, ‘The dog ate my homework’.

I look at Laika. ‘Do you think I can go home now?’ I ask her.

‘Yes. Of course.’

I realise I do not want to leave Laika. I would love to take this little dog home. ‘Laika? Can you come with me?’

‘I com ere coz I vas lost. I em sorry, I cannot go back.’

With slumped shoulders, I begin the trek back down the paper slope. I roll the homework up and push it between my belt and my sweater. Clutching the ears of the space hopper I plop back on.

‘Goodbye Laika. You have no idea what this has meant to me,’ I tell her.

‘No regrets. I em heppy ere,’ she tells me.

I begin to bounce. One. Low. Two. A foot off the ground. Three. Waist height. I hear scrambling and shouting behind me.

I turn my head to see Wing Commander Flapper Maguire as he dives towards me and grabs onto my back.

‘Not wi’out me, ye land lubbers!’ screams Captain Seymour Splasher as he launches himself upwards and makes a grab for Maguire. A loud thump tells me his wooden leg has plummeted to the ground.

A sound like a bomb detonation shakes us. The space hopper explodes, blowing pieces of rubber in half a dozen directions. The three of us land in a tangled heap on the ground.

‘What are you doing?’ I bellow. These idiots have prevented me from getting home. They have also destroyed my transport.

‘I be shipwrecked on this ere planet,’ says Captain Splasher. ‘I oughter be free t’ sail the seven seas.’

‘I just want to go home,’ whines Wing Commander Maguire.

‘You have destroyed my only chance of getting home!’

Splasher picks up his wooden leg and shoves it back under his knee.

I gaze at the ground. Pieces of rubber are strewn around us. I swallow a lump in my throat. I want to cry.

‘You ediots!’ rages Laika. ‘Look vat you hav done. You know you cannot leaf here. You es lost. Andy es not lost. Ee could go home.’

‘Can’t we splice it together again?’ suggests the mortified Splasher.

‘We could patch it up like we did with old parachutes,’ suggests a red-faced Maguire.

My heavy eyes look at Laika. Hopeless. I know she’s a genius but…

She scratches her flank with her back leg.

We stare at each other.

Nothing.

‘A repair kit of some kind,’ I say, eventually. ‘Could that work Laika?’

‘Ze repair. Off corse. Bicycle repair.’

‘There must be loads of lost bicycles,’ I say hopefully. ‘Some should have repair kits.’

‘Tally-ho. This way,’ shouts Maguire launching himself into a run.

I grab the pieces of burst space hopper and shoot after him. Where’s he going now? Please tell me they’ve got bikes here somewhere. Must be. Loads of people lose bikes. All the time.

Eventually Wing Commander Maguire comes to a stop at a hill of coins. We crunch and slide our way to the top. As I join him at the summit I look over. There it is. A vast ocean. An ocean of bicycles.

The four of us dive down the hill. Loose change explodes around us in all directions as we slither along. Showering us in a silvery bronze avalanche. A wonderful jingle of pinging coins.

‘I vil get ze repair kits,’ says Laika.

She’s fast, swiftly diving into the ocean of bikes. Rapidly she rounds up repair kits, flinging and whizzing many packs towards us. All three of us grab one each and begin to glue our giant 3D space hopper puzzle together as best we can. Ironically its sad forlorn shape looks more like a spotty patchwork planet than a glorious space hopper. There’s just one thing. Well, an important thing really. A fist-sized hole just below the right eye.

‘Nooooooo,’ I wail, scanning around in despair. A piece of orange rubber should be easy to see on a giant mountain of coins. You’d think. I collapse in a heap.

Flapper Maguire jumps up and sends himself skiing down the giant slope sending an avalanche of coins flying in all directions. There really are a lot of coins here. There really is a lot of money here. I really don’t care. I just want to go home.

I close both eyes and rub them with my hands, hoping this is some awful nightmare. I am afraid to open them again. But no. Here I’m still here. Still standing on a mountain of coins. With some kind of 1940s RAF Olympic skiing champion and his side-kick, a one-legged seadog. Flapper and Splasher. Seriously. Why did I trust them? They sound like a couple of dolphins.  

Flapper Maguire makes his way back along the way we has just come. Eventually he disappears from sight. Splasher and I, now joined by Laika begin to scrabble and search over coin mountain. Nothing.

Eventually we hear Flapper’s voice. ‘What-ho chaps. Disappointing result, eh? No sign of the darned thing.’ He climbs back up the mountain. We stare at each other. What now? All hope is gone. The last piece could have shot anywhere on this planet of junk. We would never find it. I will never get home.

I drop heavily, displacing more coins. Oops. Splasher loses his balance and lands on his bottom. There is a loud thump. The leg is off again. What a disaster.

‘Don’t give up yet you bunch of landlubbers,’ he shouts, waving his wooden leg in the air. We turn towards him. And there it is. A piece of bright orange. Stuck to the top of the wooden leg.

‘We need a pump Laika,’ I shout. She wades off back into the bike ocean.

She snuffles about for a few minutes and comes back with a fairly new looking fully functioning yellow bicycle pump.

Splasher grabs the pump and begins working on the patchwork globe. Although it begins to regain something of its former shape, I have a very uneasy feeling. How on Earth could this thing ever get me home?

‘I have no option really, do I?’ I say quietly.

Three heads shake in unison. The two men at least have the grace to look repentant.

I climb onto the fabricated space hopper. Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear. Nausea plays pinball in my stomach. I wiggle the homework. It’s still secure.

‘So long guys. Thanks for the adventure of a lifetime,’ I say. I hope that this time it really is goodbye.

Bounce one. Okay. Bounce two. A little higher. Bounce three. Waist height. Bounce four. Bit of a wobble. Higher. Higher. Through the-

‘Yeowch!’

The space hopper explodes. Orange rubber and about a hundred little black patches shoot in all directions.

I land with a thud. On my rear. On… grass?

M’Granny is still standing in the garden. ‘Welcome back Andy,’ she says. ‘Did you get your homework?’

Wide eyed, I nod. ‘I did indeed Gran. And do you know what? I’ve learned something really important.’

‘What’s that?’

I raise my eyes towards the sky. ‘The universe is in safe hands,’ I tell her.

‘Great,’ she says. ‘And your homework?’

‘You’ll never guess where it was.’

‘Oh, I think I just might,’ she replied with a wicked smile.