Memory Systems

Memory Systems is the thirty eighth chapter in the Wombles Eight.

The doorbell rang shaking everybody out of their own thoughts. Evie answered to find a large bearded man who looked worried. “Can I help you?” asked Evie. “I don’t know” replied the man “I hope so because I’m lost.” “Well where do you want get to? Mr” Evie said hinting to get the man’s name. “I don’t know” replied the man. “OK what’s your name? That would be a start.”  Evie tried the direct approach now. The man replied shrugging “I don’t know that either. I can’t remember anything.”

Bungo on the other hand was remembering lots of things as he woke up feeling a bit hungry in the burrow. He headed out to play in the snow with Alderney. He liked Alderney. He really liked Alderney! Out Bungo rushed with Alderney smiling. They laughed as they built a snow womble. They felt guilty as they dressed it up as Uncle Bulgaria.

The snowy Uncle Bulgaria spoke. “Do you Alderney Womble take Bungo Womble as your lawful wedded womble?”  It asked the smiling Alderney. “Never!” shouted Alderney now more snarling than smiling. “Nooooo!” shouted Bungo as she turned to snow and the two snow wombles chased him across the common. A dalmation dog joined the hunt. Peter Peel joined them.

Before he could stop himself Bungo started singing. “Run, run, run as fast you can, You can’t catch me I’m the Bungling man!”  Now the snow wombles, dog and man started to laugh at Bungo as he ran. As fast as he ran they never sounded any further away. Bungo realised he was running in a circle!

The circle went round and round and round, faster and faster and faster. It kept getting faster and Bungo collapsed dizzy and worn out. A distant voice called out. “Bungo!”  It kept calling as he lay in the cold, swirling snow until a great rain shower drenched him.

He sat bolt upright looking into the worried face of PMW. “My head hurts! Rhonda! Did she?” he started confused. “Get away? Yes for now but Wellington is in pursuit.” PMW replied. Alderney appeared near the bed Bungo was in. “You’re off active duty until you recover. Shansi will take charge of MI12 in the meantime.”

“I might be off active duty but I can still be in charge!” replied Bungo sounding indignant. “And who is in charge of you?” said Alderney. “I’m not giving up! I’ll work on comms until the doctors clear me to ride again!” Bungo shouted back. Alderney shouted back even louder “Bungo! Why do you have to be so awkward!”  “Me awkward? Who was made Minister for Rebellion? You were! And I remember why! I remember the snow womble! I also remember that you cared. You still do, don’t you?”  Bungo’s tone changed from defiant to pleading.

Alderney looked into Bungo’s eyes and remembered all those happy times as young wombles.

She remembered the Snow Womble. She remembered the first time they played Wombles and Ladders. She remembered how much she had once admired Bungo, from when he found the much needed concrete mixer, to when he rescued Orinoco from the dump of Fortune and Bason, to when he and Orinoco had gone on an adventure to find a new burrow, to when he had come face to face with the loch ness monster, all the way to when he had managed to beat Idaho and escape from the village. And then Alderney thought about when she had grown a disliking for Bungo. Why had she? She couldn’t quite remember. It was something to do with him acting annoying whenever he was around her, but why had she cared so much? Bungo was the one who had helped her to recover after the building she was in had bombs thrown at it. Bungo was the one who had cared and comforted Rover and Freckles when they were missing Steed. Bungo was the one who had been clever enough to build a motorbike called the Bungomobile. Bungo was the one who had been brave enough to go round the whole of London to save it by holding teddy bear bombs in his hands. Bungo was the one who had been worthy enough to become the new leader of the avengers. Bungo was the one who had been courageous enough to face his worst fear and use it to rescue every womble from hell. Bungo was the one who had been concerned enough to answer the call to the throne room straight away. Suddenly Alderney realised that was just it. Bungo was the one.

“I…” said Alderney, still staring down at Bungo, who was looking both determined and desperate at the same time.

“Alderney, please!” Bungo pleaded. “A womble on comms is worth two in the field!” he quoted what he hoped was an old proverb that Uncle Bulgaria would have been glad to hear he had learnt. He had actually just made it up but he felt pleased with himself all the while.

Alderney was struggling. She knew that she should let Bungo do it, and she knew that she wanted to, but she also didn’t want to look weak, especially not in front of him. The silence was then broken by PMW.

“Are you two just going to stare at each other for the rest of the day?” he asked. “If you are, me and Shansi will just get going.”

“No!” snapped Bungo, getting out of bed as quick as he could with his injuries. “Get me Tobermory! He can build me comms while Wellington is busy chasing Rhonda!”

“Tobermory is busy, too.” Cut in Alderney. “He burst a tyre in the Wombatmobile and he needs to fix it.”

Bungo groaned. “But there must be someone who can do it for me!” The three wombles stood in silence. Each was trying to think of another genius who would be willing enough to help them, but it seemed to be no use. Then Bungo struck gold. “Ouch!” he said as he hit the gold-coloured wall in frustration. Alderney rolled her eyes but she wasn’t bothered really.

“Was there anyone like Wellington in your Womblegarten class, Patrick?” asked Alderney, turning to look at PMW. “No.” PMW replied sadly after thinking for a minute. “Nobody.”

“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Bungo, “That’s it! Mr Class!”

Alderney and PMW had never met Mr Class so they were confused. The only wombles to meet Mr Class before were Bungo, when he had briefly worked as a Classy Glass Window Cleaner, Madame Cholet, when she had been captured by him for information, and briefly Tobermory, who had once pursued him as Wombat due to Mr Class’s old life as an enemy agent of MI12.

“Who?” asked Alderney. “Mr what?” asked PMW.

“Mr Class!” said Bungo again. “He’s an old friend and boss of mine. Steed is still in touch with him, we just need to go back to the throne room and ask for his number.”

“It’s too far.” Said Alderney hastily. “For you, I mean. Your injured leg won’t take you very far.”

“You go then.” Insisted Bungo. “If Steed’s not there, see if Cathy is. If neither are, you can try Thomas and Lucy.”

“And what if none of them are there?” asked Alderney.

“Well, you might be lucky enough to find Princess Charlie or Prince Gambit, maybe even David Vincent. If none of them are there, then we’re out of luck, but chances are at least one of them will be. Now go!”

Bungo was enjoying being bossy as Alderney and PMW rushed off to Grand Steed Manor. He always enjoyed being bossy. It was in his blood.