Fizzlebert Stump and the Bearded Boy Read Online Free

wearing her brightly coloured clown costume, but hadn’t yet done her makeup. When Fizz and Wystan appeared, she offered them some sandwiches and poured two glasses of lemonade, with straws and everything.
    ‘Thanks Mrs Stump,’ Wystan said politely, ‘but I can’t eat the sandwiches.’
    ‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you like ham and jam?’
    (Even without her clown face on, she had some funny ideas about what made a proper sandwich. Rhyming fillings were an especial favourite: she did a great peas and cheese roll, of course, and also a (slightly soggy but ever so yellow) mustard and custard baguette.)
    ‘It’s not that I don’t like ham and jam,’ Wystan said, looking a little sheepish. ‘It’s just that I’m not s’posed to eat when there’s people around.’
    ‘Why ever not?’ Mrs Stump asked.
    ‘Food gets stuck,’ he said.
    ‘Stuck where?’ Fizz asked.
    ‘In here,’ Wystan answered, patting his beard. ‘Lady Barboozul says it’s disgusting, and that no one ought to see a beard full of sauce and breadcrumbs and bits of carrot. I always eat by myself. That way I can brush out the crumbs before I meet anyone.’
    ‘Well, we’ve got napkins, you can always wipe it up as you go,’ Fizz’s mum said.
    ‘No. It’s embarrassing. I’m sorry, Mrs Stump, it does look a nice sandwich.’
    The two boys noisily sucked their lemonade.
    ‘Do you drink soup through a straw as well?’ Fizz asked.
    ‘I’ve not tried it, but it’s an idea,’ Wystan said.
    While the two boys chatted at the dining table Mrs Stump wrapped the sandwich in some paper so Wystan could eat it later, and began painting on her clown face at the other end of the caravan.
    ‘Wystan?’ came a voice from outside.
    The face of Lady Barboozul appeared in the doorway.
    ‘Have you got Wystan here? Ah, there you are, boy. Lord Barboozul was worried.’
    ‘I was playing with Fizz,’ he said. ‘His mum made sandwiches.’
    ‘Sandwiches?’ She sounded slightly shocked.
    ‘I didn’t eat them. Don’t panic.’
    ‘Good. Quite right. But you shouldn’t be bothering Mrs Stump like this. Come home now.’
    At the sound of her name Mrs Stump stood up. She banged her head on a shelf, knocked a cuckoo clock with her elbow so it began cuckooing, and accidentally tapped the tap on the sink as she reached over to shake Lady Barboozul’s hand. Water squirted into the basin, where there were some bowls waiting to be washed up, and the curve of the topmost bowl sent the water spout fountaining out of the open window.
    There was a shocked shout of surprise from outside as someone got it in the eye.
    ‘Hi there. I’m Gloria, Fizzlebert’s mum,’ said Fizzlebert’s mum, Gloria, holding her hand out for the bearded woman to shake.
    Lady Barboozul looked at it as if it were the hand of a fishmonger who was allergic to gloves. And washing.
    ‘Yes,’ she said cautiously. ‘I’m afraid I don’t shake hands with clowns. I had a . . . an experience once.’
    Mrs Stump shrugged her shoulders, honked her horn miserably and slouched away to her dressing table to finish applying her eyebrows. She looked devastated.
     

     
    Fizz wasn’t upset for her, though. He knew that she was just playing the part of the dejected clown, because that was what happened when she was in makeup: things always went wrong for her (she was called ‘Fumbling’ after all) and she’d slouch off sulkily until something went even more wrong (or ‘wronger’ if you prefer) for one of the other clowns, at which point she’d slap her sides and point and laugh. Usually she laughed heartily until a bucket of whitewash landed on her head or a custard pie hit her, when she’d become all sad and put upon again. Clowns are just like that. You shouldn’t take them too seriously.
    Wystan whispered mischievously, ‘The clown had a joy buzzer in his hand. They give you a sort of electric shock when you touch it? Lady Barboozul’s beard went crazy . . .’
    ‘Wystan,’